


Diamond In The Rough

by milomeepit



Series: Gemstone Tales [1]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood, CPS, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crying, Daydreams As A Coping Mechanism, Drug Use, Dysphoria And Coming Out Mention, Fairy Tales, Fake Names, Food, Forced Parent/Child Seperation, Found Family, Gen, Homelessness, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Legal System Stuff, M/M, Nightmares, Panic, Parent Death Mention, Parental Royality, Platonic Analogical kind of, Platonic Logince - Freeform, Probably terribly translated Spanish and I'm very sorry, Sleep Deprivation, Snakes, Starving, Transphobia, Violence, adoption au, alcohol use, blink and you'll miss it Remile, child!roman, cursing, parental prinxiety, romantic moxiety, stranger danger, terrible living conditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milomeepit/pseuds/milomeepit
Summary: Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Anxiety | Virgil Sanders
Series: Gemstone Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562644
Comments: 57
Kudos: 126





	1. Alone On The Streets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hold fast to dreams,  
> For if dreams die  
> Life is a broken-winged bird,  
> That cannot fly.”  
> ― Langston Hughes

Roman shivered as he made his way down the street, tugging his jacket tighter around him. It wasn’t quite winter yet, but the bitter chill was already settling over the city, seeping into its inhabitant’s bones.

His backpack hung heavy on his shoulders as he wandered through the grey and gloomy city, eyes sweeping the ground for any dropped bit of change. He still had the small stash he’d swiped before leaving home, but it wasn’t enough for a motel room to get out of the cold. Maybe he could try begging or singing for money. It might be his best option at this point.

Many of the stores and restaurants lining the street were plastered with posters and signs declaring their prices, many of them much more than he could afford. He wasn’t sure exactly what the time was, but it wouldn’t be long before the sun began to set, and his growling stomach reminded him that he had yet to eat. He grimaced, curling in on himself, and leaned back against a cold brick wall.

A door swung open, distracting him from his lack of food. He looked down the street to see a tall man wearing a black turtleneck and a light blue half apron with a bright purple pocket sweeping dead leaves from the sidewalk in front of the small door. It didn’t look like it was attached to the pharmacy or the record store on either side, and the area seemed very well kept. The man disappeared back through the door, whistling, taking the broom with him. Roman caught a few faint notes of music before the door swung shut behind him, something warm and cheerful and inviting.

It probably wouldn’t be smart to go wandering into an unmarked door where a strange man could be lurking, in the middle of the city, with not many people around, but… something drew Roman to the door. He found himself standing in front of the dark wood, examining the smooth, clean finish. It was clearly well taken care of, clean and shiny. Even the surrounding sections of wall were free from graffiti, a rare sight in this part of town.

He reached up and grabbed the silver doorknob, then paused. He looked around, up and down the street. For what, he wasn’t sure, but this felt secret, and dangerous, and exciting. Like a portal into a magical world. Exactly the kind of thing he’d been looking for, in other words.

Roman took a deep breath, then pulled open the door and was confronted by a steep, narrow set of stairs that reached up to the second story. “Coraline, eat your heart out,” he breathed, eyes dancing over the staircase. Small painted flowers of every colour and trees curled up the walls like vines, reaching upwards towards the golden light pouring like melted butter from the overhead lamp.

He started up the stairs, vaguely hearing the door swing shut behind him. He trailed his fingertips along the winding stems of the flowers, half expecting them to come away coated with pixie dust. Every step brought him closer to the faint music, the gentle clink of crockery, the smells of paper and butter and cinnamon. His heart thundered as he crept closer to the top of the stairs. Where on earth _was_ he right now?

As his feet hit the top step, his eyes widened. Mismatched bookshelves stood to one side of the large room, making haphazard pathways and tunnels across the hardwood floor. Tables and chairs were scattered around the room, and a counter framed in the corner held a coffee machine and a glass display case lined with mouth-watering treats. 

The tall man appeared from a doorway behind the counter and pulled a cupcake out from the case, carrying it over to one of the few occupied tables. He set it down in front of a shorter man with caramel skin and wild curly brown hair, pecking him on the cheek and murmuring something to him with a gentle smile. The other man chuckled, slinging his arms around the tall man’s neck and dotting kisses all over his face.

Roman’s heart ached. He had to be dead, or dreaming. Maybe he’d walked past the wrong alleyway and breathed in some kind of fumes from some weird new drug, and he was hallucinating. Real adults weren’t that sweet, like lovers in a storybook or in one of his favourite movies. Places like this didn’t _really_ exist, with such a cozy, disorderly warmth. He knew that. He scampered in the opposite direction from the two men, squeezing between two of the bookcases and scanning the shelves.

His eyes landed on a familiar red cover, the gold script along the spine shiny and comforting. He eased out the thick book and retreated further into the bookshelves, finding an armchair and curling up with the book in his lap before beginning to quietly read aloud from one of his favourite stories. “ _‘There was, many years ago, a gentleman who had a charming lady for his wife. They had one daughter only, who was dutiful to her parents. But while she was still very young, her mamma died, to the grief of her husband and daughter. After a time, the little girl’s papa married another lady. However, this lady was proud and haughty, and had two grown-up daughters as disagreeable as herself; so the poor girl found everything at home changed for the worse.’_ ”

He paused for a moment, his fingers tracing the familiar illustration of Cinderella, in her plain dress, sitting by the dark, cold fireplace, her face fixed in a gentle, wistful expression. “ _‘But she bore all her troubles with patience, not even complaining to her father, and, in spite of her hard toil, she grew more lovely in face and figure every year.’_ ”

Roman squinted at the book as he read, his eyes hurting a little from focusing on the small print. “ _‘Now the King’s son gave a grand ball, and all persons of quality were invited to it. Our two young ladies where not overlooked. Nothing was now talked of but the rich dresses they were to wear.’_ ” He sighed softly, letting the book fall open on his lap and leaning back in the armchair and looking up at the ceiling. The magic of the ball seemed to pale in comparison to the whimsical atmosphere of the cafe. He wanted to stay here forever. He couldn’t stay here forever. Maybe he could? There were enough tables and chairs and sofas he could probably hide for a good long while.

The scrape of chairs made him jump, and a cheerful voice rang out across the room. “Alrighty, folks! It’s five o’clock, which means we’ve gotta close up and get home. So, I’m gonna have to ask you all to skedaddle. That means any of you bookworms still in the stacks, too!”

Ah. He could always come back tomorrow, as well. They’d probably be open. Maybe they had their hours posted somewhere around the cafe. Or he could just wait until they came back tomorrow morning.

Roman slid the book back onto the shelf, making a mental note of where it was so he could find it again next time, and slipped down the stairs and out the door. He shivered as the cold evening air wrapped around him once again, sticking his hands in his pockets as he turned back down the street towards the park he’d found that morning. 

He glanced over his shoulder before he turned the corner, his gaze lingering on the wooden door. “… I’ll be back soon,” He whispered to himself. “It’ll be fine.” He swallowed, trying to force down the sense of dread and anxiety that was clawing up his throat as he set off to find a place to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
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> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)  
> Tumblr


	2. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hope is the thing with feathers  
> That perches in the soul  
> And sings the tune without the words  
> And never stops at all.”  
> ― Emily Dickinson

Roman continued to go to the cafe over the next few weeks. He was apprehensive about touching the books, in case he was meant to pay, but it turned out that the owners encouraged everyone to read and enjoy the provided material. And, as he found, there was a _lot_ of it. 

There were books about science, and magic, and jokes, and food, and monsters, and angels. Every subject Roman could imagine lined the shelves, thousands of books with different colours and shapes and sizes. Cartoons and diagrams and newspapers and studies, all clustered in loosely-sorted shelves and sections. It was like heaven.

He trailed his fingers along a shelf, mouthing titles to himself as he tried to pick out a story to read that day. His eyes landed on a forest green copy of Peter Pan, and he smiled a little to himself as he slid it gently from the shelf. He tucked it under his arm, making his way back towards his normal armchair with a spring in his step.

Turning the corner, he paused. The taller man was busily arranging the pillows on the armchair, plumping them up and folding the blanket to rest over the back of the chair. Roman took a step back, bumping into the corner of the bookcase.

The man looked up towards the noise, locking eyes with him and raising a curious eyebrow. Roman was transfixed by his eyes; bright green and a deep purple. Was he a sorcerer? Maybe a faerie of some kind. Or a shapeshifter! Roman held his breath, half afraid it might be stolen by this unearthly figure.

“Oh, hey, it’s you,” The man straightened, flashing a wry smile. “Come in to curl up with some more fairy tales, kid?”

Roman blinked, his arms tightening protectively around the book cradled in his arms. “Y-yeah,” He replied hesitantly. “How did you know?”

The man laughed, leaning against the arm of the chair and crossing his arms. “I notice everyone coming in and out of this place, trust me. What’s your name, anyway, short stuff?”

Roman’s mind whirled. This man was a human man who was a stranger, or he was some kind of mythical creature prying for his name. Either way, Roman knew enough to not give out his real name. “Um… it’s Peter.”

The man paused, tilting his head and looking Roman up and down. Roman held his breath again, the close inspection setting his heart pounding. “Hey, did you want, like, a muffin or anything? You’re skinnier than a London kid from a Charles Dickens novel.” He said finally, gesturing vaguely towards the counter of the cafe.

“I’m, uh-” Roman’s stomach growled at the tempting prospect of food, and he winced. “… Yes, please, that would be lovely.”

The man pushed himself away from the chair and walked past. “Let’s go, then, Pete.” Roman followed him out of the winding stacks and towards the counter, where the other man was pottering around making cups of coffee and icing cupcakes.

Roman slid into a chair at a table near the counter, awkwardly clasping his hands in his lap as he looked around the cafe, trying to not make eye contact with anyone. He didn’t belong here, he already knew that. One look at him, and they probably would, too.

“Virgil, by the way.” Roman looked back to the tall man as he set down a glass of juice and a muffin on a small plate. “I mean, my name. I’m Virgil.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Virgil,” Roman replied shyly, ducking his head. The sweet smell of chocolate caught his attention, and he inspected the muffin, his eyes widening as he saw the large white chocolate chips and raspberries speckled across the top. “Oh… _wow_. Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Patton bakes a ton, so we always end up with leftovers. We won’t miss it,” Virgil chuckled affectionately as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the other man. “He’s got a heck of a sweet tooth.”

Roman craned his neck to peer at Patton, who smiled brightly and waved. He raised a hand, hesitantly returning the wave before returning his attention to the food. His stomach growled again, more insistently, and he rolled his eyes. _Yeah, yeah, okay. Food time, I get it._

He picked a piece off of the muffin, carefully popping it into his mouth and almost whimpering at the wonderful taste. This Patton fellow was a good baker, that was for sure. It didn’t take long for him to scarf down the muffin, washing it down with large gulps of juice, and he sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

“… Well, somebody was hungry.” He looked up to meet Virgil’s astounded gaze. “Did you… did you want anything else?”

“I don’t have any money,” Roman blushed, ducking his head. “I-I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Kid, seriously, there’s a mountain of ‘em,” Virgil insisted. “Come on, you can pick out a couple things, have whatever you want. On the house.”

Roman followed him over to the counter, picking out another muffin and a piece of pie before returning to the table. “Thanks again,” He said softly before digging into the food. 

As he ate, he watched Virgil slip behind the counter, wrapping his arms around Patton and burying his face into the shorter’s unruly curls. Patton giggled, turning around in Virgil’s arms to stretch up on tiptoe and kiss him. Roman grinned. They were really sweet. Every time that he’d come in, he’d noticed them kissing each other’s cheeks and squeezing each other’s hands in passing over the course of the day. Like a couple out of a movie, or a romance novel.

Virgil’s hands traced lazily up and down Patton’s back as they spoke quietly, finally settling on his shoulders and squeezing lightly before they pulled apart. Virgil picked up the piping bag and took over icing the cupcakes, while Patton made his way over to Roman and sat down, beaming.

“Hey, there, cutie pie!” He beamed, propping his chin up in his hands. “How’s it going?”

Roman returned the smile hesitantly. “Um, good. Thank you so much for the food, you really didn’t have to-”

“Aw, shucks! Of course! It’s not like we’re gonna do much with it. I mean, the healthier stuff like the little quiches, we can put in an ice box and drop off at the homeless shelter tonight, but they don’t like taking junk food like the donuts and stuff, so! May as well make sure they get a home in someone’s belly instead of in the trash, right?” Patton shrugged, grinning. “Besides, seeing people enjoying what I make is more important to me than getting heaps of money.”

Roman nodded. “So, um, do you guys own this place, or just work here?” He asked, taking another look around the warm, cozy space. 

“We own it! It used to be an apartment, but Virgil and I did some renovations a couple of years ago, and it’s been our little slice of heaven ever since!” Patton glanced at Virgil, then back to Roman. “I’m guessing you like fantasy stories, dontcha, Peter?”

“Yeah!” Roman perked up, looking towards the book he’d set on the table. “I really love fairy tales. They’re so warm, and nice, and sweet, and kind, and the heroes always get what they’re dreaming about. Even if they have to go through some nasty things to get there… they always get their happily ever after. You know?”

Patton nodded, clearly excited. “I do! I like stories with happy endings, too.” He brightened suddenly, clapping his hands together. “You know, we could read together sometime! That’d be fun, right?”

Roman giggled, caught off guard by the man’s infectious positivity. “That sounds nice!” He agreed.

“Well, if you wanna finish up your food, we can crack open this copy of- oh, hah!” Patton burst into laughter. “Peter Pan! Well, that’s practically perfect, dontcha think, Pete?”

Roman blushed a little. “Y-yeah! That’s why I like it so much,” He lied. “Because of the name.”

“Well, if you wanna finish eating, I’ll go find us a nice cozy spot to curl up and read. I know the perfect place!” Patton declared confidently, hopping to his feet. “I’ll come back and get you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman agreed, digging into the food again. As Patton vanished among the shelves, a smile crept onto his face. Why had he been frightened of these two? They were just as sweet as they appeared!

He could really get used to sitting here, the toes of his worn sneakers just grazing the floor as he swung his legs back and forth, the gentle music playing in the background light and whimsical, the warm smells of homemade food wrapping around him and leaving him in a cozy, contented haze. Reading stories and eating the delicious treats with Patton and Virgil sounded…. Perfect.

He wondered what their home was like. He imagined it much like the cafe; a little haphazard, with mismatched furniture picked up from garage sales and thrift stores. He could picture Patton curled up on a couch with threadbare seams lovingly mended, knitting scarves for the steadily cooling winter weather, half watching a movie on the TV; Virgil settling down next to him and placing cups of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows, on the coffee table. Leaning over to peck Patton on the lips. Patton curling into Virgil’s arms, tugging the afghan blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around them. The two of them sitting up as Roman ran into the room, chattering away. Virgil’s small but sincere smile as Patton held out his arms for Roman to jump into-

No.

He stabbed a chunk of pie viciously, as if driving the fork into the heart of the daydream to kill it. He couldn’t afford to have flights of fancy like this. _You barely know these people. They wouldn’t want you, anyway,_ he told himself. _They could have kids of their own, or not enough space, or not like kids-_ although, the last one seemed unlikely considering how bright Patton’s smile was as he scampered across the room back towards him.

“Peter! Peter, you ready?” He squealed, bouncing on his toes with excitement.

Roman quickly shoveled the last few bites of pie into his mouth and nodded. “Mm-hm! Jus’ lemmie-” He jumped off the chair, turning to grab the plates and take them back over to the counter.

Virgil appeared from behind him, smoothly sliding the dishes from his grasp and ruffling his hair affectionately. “Don’t worry about it, kid, I got ‘em.” He winked. “You go hang out with Pat for a while, huh?”

“Oh, okay,” Roman looked up at him, a little surprised. “Thanks!”

With that, he scurried into the shelves, following Patton through the winding labyrinth of rustling paper and shining wood. They turned this way and that, and Roman very quickly became disoriented by the winding pathway. Surely the cafe wasn’t this large? Though, Patton had said it was an apartment, so perhaps it was. 

They eventually came to a small opening between two bookcases, and Patton stepped back and waved for Roman to enter first, his eyes sparkling with a kind of magic that Roman adored. “Go on,” He nodded encouragingly.

Roman cautiously squeezed between the shelves, and his eyes widened. In this corner of the cafe, in the opposite corner from the counter and the dining area, far away from the busier sections of the shelves, there was a small sheltered alcove, barely bigger than a large double bed. The floor was lined with pillows and blankets, and plush animals were littered around the edges, soft and smooth and inviting. A small, dim wall lamp cast a gentle glow over the cozy nook, just bright enough to see by.

“… This is _amazing_ ,” Roman whispered, looking around the space. “Was this always here?”

“Yuppers! It’s my favourite spot in the _whoooole_ cafe! Well, aside from elbow deep in a bowl of brownie batter.” Patton giggled, squeezing past Roman and settling down into the nest. He dug amongst the pillows for a moment before pulling out the book. “There we go! Lost track of it while I was rearranging stuff before, heh.”

He shifted again, moving to the side and patting the pillows next to him. “Come on in, get cozy! Nothing better than a comfy blanket fort to read in, right?”

“Yeah…” Roman sat down next to Patton, his knee not quite touching the other’s, and peered at the book as he cracked it open.

“Ready?” Patton asked. When Roman nodded, he cleared his throat and began reading.

“ _All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this._ ”

Roman blinked, looking between the pages and Patton’s face. The man’s usually rather chipper and somewhat squeaky voice dropped sharply into smooth baritone as he read. Roman inched closer, entranced by Patton’s enchanting storyteller voice.

“ _One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!” This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end._ ”

Well, that hit close to home. Some of Roman’s very earliest memories with his family were good, he was certain of it. There was a time when everything was warm and good and happy, and those misty, unfocused memories warmed him to his toes when he dared peek back towards his past. Look too long, though, and they quickly soured, into choking ash and clattering bottles and men arguing with his parents downstairs when he was supposed to be asleep.

“ _Of course they lived at 14- their house number on their street- and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth._ ” Patton continued, the faint rustle as he turned the page punctuating his sentence neatly.

All Roman could think of was Virgil. The dry humour he had seen the man exchanging with patrons, the gentle warmth in his eyes when he had seen Roman that morning, the soft, sweet touches with Patton.

“ _Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner._ ”

Roman hummed softly, leaning against Patton as he closed his eyes, allowing the image of Virgil smirking to slip into his mind. Virgil ruffling his hair again, and leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He could easily picture Patton dotting kisses across his cheeks… booping his nose… wrapping him up in strong arms, pulling him close to a warm chest, where he could curl up and be safe and warm and loved.

Even just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	3. Safe Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Children re-invent your world for you  
> -Susan Sarandon

“Oh, thank you, darling!” Virgil tried not to wince as Miss Berkeley pinched his cheek when he leaned down to set her food and coffee on the table, her calloused fingers rough against his face.

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” He plastered on an uncomfortable smile as he ducked away, wiping his hands on his apron. “If there’s anything else you need, just shout, and Patton or I will be right over.”

He spun on his heel, quickly escaping before the older lady could trap him in yet another circular conversation about the weather and wasn’t it just _awful_ to be alone in such chilly circumstances and she’d _love_ to be able to help those stuck outside, but it was so _hard_ to make a real impact.

The fake sweetness made him want to _gag_.

Speaking of sweetness… he glanced up at the clock hanging over the register and realised it had been almost two hours since Patton had disappeared to go read with that Peter kid. Hm. It wasn’t like Patton to be gone for this long without at least a text or something.

Virgil wiped down the counter, chewing his lip. He should go check on them, make sure they were okay. Just in case.

He dumped the cloth in the sink and tried to not look to panicked as he quickly made his way into the stacks. Around the chest high wooden bookcase with chipped sky blue paint, turn left at the dark metal shelving, right at the brown kids’ shelves, then around the green bookcase stuffed full of nature and gardening guides, and there it was.

The faint glow of the lamp spilling from Patton’s reading nook was a welcome sight; clearly nothing truly terrible could have happened if they were still holed up reading. He poked his head between the bookcases and grinned. “Hey,” He greeted softly.

Patton looked up from the book carefully balanced in his lap, lighting up as he met his husband’s gaze. “Hi!” He whispered. “How’s it going out there?”

“Oh, alright,” Virgil replied. “Served Berkeley and barely escaped with my life, the usual.”

Patton giggled. “Ah, dear. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Virgil leaned against the bookcase, crossing his arms and nodding to the Peter, who was fast asleep curled against Patton’s right side. “What about you?”

Patton looked down at Peter and his face softened. “… I’m great,” He answered after a moment. Virgil had only seen that particular sweet smile directed towards his nieces, and he watched as Patton carefully brushed greasy hair back from the grubby child’s face.

“… Pat?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind, babe?”

Patton cleared his throat. “… He’s a really great kid, Virge.”

“Yeah, he seems sweet. Kinda shy, but sweet. And?”

Patton didn’t respond for a few seconds, his eyes locked on the boy’s face. “I’m worried about him. Do you think, maybe, just for now, anyway, we could-”

“Pat, that’s not how that works,” Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’s a _kid_ , not a lost cat.”

Patton looked up at him, giving Virgil a pleading smile. “Can’t we at least let him stay with us?”

_Oh, boy._ Virgil eased himself down next to Patton, settling against his left side and putting an arm around his shoulders. “He’ll have parents, or a grandma, or an older brother, or… something, who’s waiting for him at home.”

Patton rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder, letting out a quiet hum of reluctant agreement. “You’re right. I know, but… I wanna help. He’s so skinny, Virge, and he was so hungry. I’m worried about him.”

Virgil pressed a kiss to Patton’s forehead. “You can’t save everyone, babe,” He murmured as he reached up to run his fingers through Patton’s silky brown locks. 

“… But I want to try,” Patton replied softly.

For as far back as he could remember, Patton had always been the one who brought home stray puppies. The one who baked cookies to share with their classmates. Held doors open, waved to kids on buses. His heart was so big, so warm. So full of love. 

Virgil wondered sometimes how a bastard like him had been lucky enough to be the one Patton chose.

“I know you do. And…” Virgil sighed. “I guess, we can, you know, offer him food and a safe place during the day. If he wants to come here. And if his parents or whatever don’t mind.”

Patton lit up, beaming at Virgil with a thousand-watt grin. “Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” He whispered, letting the book fall abandoned in his lap as he latched onto Virgil’s arm, hugging it tightly. “I promise, if we find out anything about his parents, I’ll help find him somewhere safe to live. That isn’t on our couch. I promise!”

Virgil covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter so he didn’t disturb the sleeping child still cuddled up to his husband’s other side. “Alright, okay. Sounds good, babe.” He kissed Patton’s forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Patton giggled, a faint blush dusted across his cheeks. “I’m proud of you, too. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)  
> Tumblr


	4. Regulars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “True friendship comes when the silence between two people is comfortable.”  
> – David Tyson

Virgil whistled as he stacked plates into the dishwasher in the kitchen. The lunch rush had just finished, and the resulting quiet in the cafe gave him a chance to tidy up while Patton prepared more food to restock the displays. 

It was a pleasant time of day, when they didn’t have to rush around, tending to customers and juggling dishes. Virgil enjoyed the calm. He was able to relax a little and just breathe in the atmosphere he and Patton had so carefully cultivated over the years; Warm. Casual. Cozy. He wandered back out to the dining area, slinging a cloth over his shoulder and gazing across the room.

The cafe was his favourite place in the world. He remembered back when they were first putting it together, finding bookshelves at thrift stores and awkwardly squeezing them up the stairs and arranging and rearranging them to find that perfect aesthetic. They always used to claim that once the cafe got busier and they had a bigger budget, they’d replace the bookshelves and armchairs. They’d buy new furniture that matched, that didn’t groan under its own weight, with bright, new, fresh paint that didn’t have cracks running along the corners like tiny spiderwebs.

Of course, looking around now at the mismatched shelves and patched-up sofas, he knew they wouldn’t change it for the world. 

A creak from the staircase caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see a rather lanky, quite familiar man appear at the top. The man made his way over to his usual table, just across from the counter, and settled down into a chair.

Virgil meandered over to him, pausing to wipe off the tables along his path. The man rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Gee, take your time, why don’t you?”

Virgil grinned. “Yeah, yeah.” He dragged out the other chair, dropping down into it. “Where’ve you _been_ , anyway? We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I was out of town. One of the kids I work with ran away from home, and the whole thing just turned into a disaster. They ended up moving in with a family member, though, so it’s all sorted out now. Meaning I,” The man paused to let out a deep, contented sigh. “I can relax.”

“Is that Logan I hear out there?” Patton popped his head out of the kitchen, brightening as he spotted the pair seated nearby. “Ah! I’ll be over in a minute, you two just hang tight!”

Virgil chuckled. “No problem, love, don’t rush!” He called back. 

Logan smiled. “It’s good to be back home. My sister was looking after my dog, and apparently he’s been driving her husband crazy, and she hasn’t stopped complaining about how I ‘ _owe her big time’_.”

“Hah. Lola, I assume?” Virgil guessed, propping his chin up in his hand.

“Well, neither Emily or Cora were up for dogsitting- Emily having the baby and all, and Cora being the neat freak she is-”

“It still amazes me that there exists a person more of a neat freak than you.”

“Shut _up_. Anyway, yes, Lola.” Logan drummed his fingers on the table. “Could you get me a latte?”

“Sure thing, dude.” Virgil hopped to his feet, making his way behind the counter to the coffee maker.

The rumbling of the machine and the stereo system were the only sounds in the cafe for a few minutes as Logan immediately became engrossed with his book, and Virgil stifled a chuckle.

Patton broke the quiet by practically skipping out of the kitchen with a plate of fresh-baked cookies, humming a cheerful tune as he made a beeline for Logan’s table. The sweet smell of fruit wafted past, and Virgil shook his head fondly. It would be a strange day if Logan ever started off his afternoon with anything other than thumbprint cookies. 

Sure enough, the nerd perked up as Patton approached with the cookies and set the plate down on the table. “Thank you, Patton,” He said quickly, then snatched a cookie and crammed it into his mouth.

Virgil snorted as he brought over Logan’s coffee. “You gonna breathe between those or what?” He asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, accepting the coffee and taking a long sip before speaking. “It’s hardly my fault your husband is such an excellent baker.”

Patton giggled. “Aw, shucks! Thank you, Lo! That’s pretty _sweet_ of you to say!”

Logan groaned at the pun, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Virgil didn’t make any attempt to smother the devilish grin that spread across his face in response his pain. “You _have_ to be used to these by now, dude,” He teased. “And, I mean, if you’re not, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”

“Not you, too…!” Logan complained, hiding his face behind his book, as if the pages would protect him from the absurd jokes.

Patton giggled, reaching across the table to pat Logan’s shoulder. “There, there, Logan. I promise no more cookie puns for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, thank Erikson.” Logan muttered.

Virgil rolled his eyes as he picked up the cleaning cloth again. “Nerd.”

“Emo,” Logan retorted.

“You’re just jealous you couldn’t pull off this eyeliner.” Virgil poked his tongue out and walked away, wiping down another table with his back to them. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure _muffin_ else gets under your skin today!” He heard Patton announce cheerfully.

Logan’s enraged whisper-scream was more than enough to make Virgil burst out laughing again. Yup, life was good running a cafe, especially with regulars who were actually human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	5. Dark Nights and Park Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Being a family means you are a part of something very wonderful. It means you will love and be loved for the rest of your life.”   
> –Lisa Weed

Afternoons began to settle into a comfortable routine. Peter would climb the stairs to the cafe, pick out a book, curl up on a couch on the edge of the dining area, and wait, picking at the frayed hems of his jeans. Patton would eventually come over, mugs of cocoa and a plate of cookies in hand, and would start to read, leaving the afternoon’s lazy trickle of customers to Virgil.

This afternoon, however, as the sun began to dip lower, and closing time approached, Patton paused before turning the page. “Hey, Peter, sweetie, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?” Peter looked up at Patton, his eyes wide and round and trusting, and gods, they broke his heart a little.

Patton gazed down at him, brushing straggly hair back from his face. “Honey, do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Peter replied, a little too quickly for Patton to be convinced.

“Somewhere safe and warm? Inside? With your parents?” Patton pressed on.

Peter pulled away from him, nodding quickly. “Y-yeah! With my mom and dad, they have a- they have a house and stuff!” He insisted.

Patton studied him, his arms wrapped around himself, the hunched shoulders. Those wide eyes, now full of doubt and fear. His chest squeezed painfully as Peter shuffled away, putting a small amount of distance between them. _Breathe. Calm down. You’re going to spook him even more_ , he reminded himself.

“Are you _sure_ about that?” Patton asked softly. “It’s okay if the answer is no, I just want to help you.”

“I… I…” Peter stammered, his hands balling up into fists. His shoulders trembled as he curled in on himself tighter.

Patton reached out towards him, offering a comforting smile. “Peter, are you oka-”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Peter ducked away from him with a yelp, pushing himself to his feet and sprinting towards the stairs, his tattered sneakers screeching against the smooth wooden floor. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished down the stairwell, the front door slamming shut behind him.

Virgil looked up from the register at the sudden commotion, and Patton saw him mouthing curses as he vaulted over the counter, ripping off his apron and throwing it towards Patton. “I’ll be right back!” He yelled over his shoulder, and then he was gone, too.

Patton leaped up and snatched the apron out of the air, clutching it close to his chest, staring after them as he blinked back the tears pricking at his eyes. He really, _really_ hoped he hadn’t just ruined everything.

Meanwhile, Virgil weaved through groups of people out on the street, searching the crowds for Peter’s messy hair and red jacket. _Come on, kid. You can’t have got that far._ He turned down one street, then another, his gaze raking over passing people. Past the hotel, along the bike path, around the library.

Damn it.

_“Excuse me, have you seen a little boy? About this tall, red jacket, beat-up backpack?”_

Nope.

_“Hey, have you seen a kid come through here? Kind of looks like Pig-Pen from the Peanuts?”_

No luck.

_“Hi, sorry to bother you, I’m looking for a boy? Messy hair, grubby face, big green eyes?”_

Nothing.

Virgil flopped down onto a park bench, out of breath. His phone buzzed insistently, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see a message from Patton.

_Pat <3 [5:23pm]: Heya <333 Any luck?  
Cutie Pie [5:23pm]: nothing yet. still looking tho  
Pat <3 [5:24pm]: Okay. Stay safe. I love you!  
Cutie Pie [5:24pm]: will do xo_

Virgil sucked in a deep breath, sticking his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his temples. He had to think. Where would a scared kid go, if they didn’t have somewhere safe to go? Where would a kid hide?

He should be able to figure this out, _damn it!_ He was always the one who ran and hid- ducking under tables, slipping into closets, climbing up trees, squeezing between cars. He was an expert at hiding spots when he was a kid.

Then again, it had always been his dad or Patton who excelled at the finding part. Time after time, Virgil would sit there, waiting for them to rescue him, curled into a ball, his breathing shallow as panic clawed at his chest, squeezing his throat tight until he couldn’t breathe-

Breathe in for four seconds. Hold it for seven seconds. Breathe out for eight seconds. Keep it together.

“If I was a kid, all alone, out in the cold, with the sun setting, where would I hide?” He asked himself aloud.

Alone? Probably somewhere he could keep an eye on who came and went.

Cold? Somewhere protected from snow and wind and rain.

Virgil started walking again, chewing on his bottom lip as he made his way along the path. Streetlamps cast a sickly yellow glow over the park, the shadows dancing as the trees waved in the wind. He _had_ to be missing something. He just had to _think_.

The path curved around to the left and Virgil followed it. His thoughts felt heavy and thick, like smoke clogging up his brain. Where else could the kid even _be?_

A metallic creak nearby pulled him from his thoughts. He stepped off the path, ducking through a grove of trees and following the noise. It was darker over here, away from the lights illuminating the walkway, and it took a few seconds for his to adjust.

The old playground. Virgil remembered coming here when he was younger. Perched at the top with Patton, their legs swinging over the edge as they watched people pass by. It didn’t get much use nowadays- the city council had built a shiny new playground with colourful metal frames and fancy soft fall rubber flooring.

What was wrong with regular old wood chips? He shook his head. People were so concerned with their kids getting so much as a scratch these days. What was childhood, if not the ultimate opportunity for skinned knees and bumps on the head?

The creak pierced through the air again as the ancient swingset moved in the wind. He moved over to it, examining the tarnished metal links. Somewhere along one of these chains, he’d scratched his and Patton’s initials. They were littered all over this playground, really. Scratched onto plastic, carved into wooden beams.

Virgil shook his head. _Now isn’t the time for a trip down memory lane,_ he scolded himself. _You can bring Patton down here and have a picnic sometime, but you have a mission rig-_

A faint sound made his head snap up towards the play equipment. It almost sounded like… a sniffle?

He slowly approached the old playground, following the sound. _Please don’t be a raccoon, please don’t be a raccoon,_ he begged silently as he bobbed down and peered into the plastic tunnel.

“ _Go away!_ ” Virgil jerked back, startled by the sudden shriek. “ _Leave me alone!_ ”

Well, that answered that question.

He settled down onto the ground, a foot or so back from the opening of the tunnel. “Pete, it’s me,” He said softly.

There was a heavy silence for a few seconds, followed by rustling, and Peter poked his head out of the shadows, eyeing Virgil suspiciously. “… Hi.”

“Hey, kid,” Virgil replied casually, leaning back on his hands. “Cozy in there?”

Peter shrugged. “I guess. I have a blanket.”

“Niiiice. Doesn’t sound as luxurious as Patton’s reading nook, though.”

“Nah. That’s, like… a blanket palace.”

Virgil chuckled at the dreamy look in Peter’s eyes. “It sure is.”

Peter flashed him a small, hesitant smile. “I really like your cafe. It’s really, really nice.”

“Thanks. We’ve tried really hard to make it nice, so I’m really glad to hear.” He shifted, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees. “Mind if I ask why you ditched us in such a hurry?”

Peter shrank back, suddenly looking… almost frightened? Virgil’s heart panged at the boy’s crossed arms and hunched stance.

“Look, I promise I’m not mad, and you’re not in trouble or anything. Me and Patton are just…” Virgil paused, searching for the right word. “… We’re worried about you, kid. We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why.” Peter’s voice was flat.

“Because… because we care about you? You’re a good kid? Why wouldn’t we?” Virgil asked, baffled by the complete lack of emotion in the usually animated child.

“… Really?” Peter blinked, his eyebrows drawn together as he studied Virgil.

“Y… yeah,” Virgil affirmed softly.

“Are all the adults around here as nice as you guys?” He shuffled a little closer to the opening of the pipe.

Well, that was telling. “I mean, to be honest? Not all of ‘em. But I know some good people.” He paused, biting his lip before continuing. “Are your folks not… so nice?”

“They’re… okay. They don’t really talk to me much.”

“I see.” Virgil did _not_ , in fact, see.

Peter ducked his head, curling back in on himself. “Sorry. I don’t… it’s okay, I promise.”

Virgil’s chest tightened at Peter’s hunched shoulders. “You know, kid… it’s okay for things to be, you know… not okay.” He reached out, gently touching his arm.

Peter looked up, his wide eyes shining in the darkness. “I…” He trailed off, staring at Virgil.

“Look, it’s pretty cold and nasty out here, and _I_ personally wanna head back to meet up with my husband and go home and have dinner and watch movies.” Virgil smiled. “And if you wanna tag along, you’re totally welcome to, kid.”

Peter moved forwards again, emerging from the tube. He threw himself at Virgil, wrapping his arms around his chest, knocking the slim man onto his back. Virgil let out a grunt as he caught the child, squeezing him a little. “I got you, bud. I got you.”

He let go after a moment, and Virgil released him. The two of them clambered to their feet, exchanged a nod, and then began walking back in the direction of the cafe.

Virgil didn’t pull away when Peter’s small hand took hold of his, tightly gripping onto him like a lifeline. They made their way along the path, hands swinging gently between them. The silence was somewhere between comfortable and suffocating, and Virgil cursed his inability to read social situations. He wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say, but _this_ \- the protective urge boiling in his blood, the warmth of Peter’s hand in his- it felt _right_.

He cleared his throat, glancing up towards the stars. “Hey, do you know any of the constellations, kid?”

Peter looked up at him curiously. “No? That’s, like… stars and stuff, right? And, like… star signs and junk?”

“Yeah, stuff like that. What’s yours?”

“Um… my birthday is in June. June 4th.”

Virgil clicked his tongue as he thought. “I’m pretty sure that’s, like… right in the middle of Gemini. Neat.” He squeezed Peter’s hand gently. “Mine’s Sagittarius- birthday’s in late December.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “There was a girl in my classes whose birthday is the 28th. She said it sucked, because she only got one set of presents.”

Virgil chuckled. “It’s not so bad. Patton always makes a cake, and we hang out and eat snacks, and that’s more than enough for me.”

Peter nodded, then looked back up towards the sky. “… What other constellations are there up there?” He asked.

Virgil followed his gaze, searching the stars for a shape he recognized. “Uh… oh, right there. Dorado. See it? It’s like a dolphin.” He raised their joined hands to point up at the cluster of stars.

Peter squinted at the sky, then brightened. “Oh, _yeah_! I can see the tail and body and everything!” He exclaimed.

Virgil grinned and ruffled his hair. “Hell yeah. Great job, Pete!”

The boy hesitated at the praise, his steps faltering to a halt. “Um…” He pulled his hand free, rubbing his free arm nervously.

“What’s up, kid?” Virgil bobbed down to him, raising an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

“Um, well, the thing is…” He hesitated, closing his eyes before spitting out in a rush, “ _My name isn’t actually Peter, I panicked, I’m sorry, my name’s Roman, I’m sorry for lying-!_ ”

“Whoa, _whoa!_ ” Virgil held up his hands, eyes wide. “ _Breathe_ , princey! Calm down time.” He raised his hand, wanting to draw him into a hug, but knowing all too well how distressing contact could be when one didn’t feel up to it. Neither of them moved for a tense few seconds, and he cleared his throat, letting his hand drop to his side again. “Roman, huh? That’s a pretty cool name. It suits you.”

Roman(?) slowly opened his eyes, peeking up at Virgil from behind his scraggly fringe. “… You’re not mad?” He asked, his voice soft and hesitant in a way that broke Virgil’s heart all over again.

“I promise. Little _surprised_ , maybe, but…” Virgil shook his head. “Not mad. People can be scary. I understand, bud.” He chuckled. “I remember when I was a kid, my teacher thought my name was Oliver for, like, three weeks, because I was too nervous to correct her.”

Roman stared at Virgil, then slowly nodded. “…Okay. Okay.” He reached out, taking Virgil’s hand again.

Virgil gently squeezed his hand as he got back to his feet. “Let’s head home, huh?”

Roman nodded again. “Yeah,” He murmured, a small, shy smile creeping onto his face.

Virgil liked this kid’s smile.

It didn’t take long for them to get back to the cafe. Virgil held open the door for Roman as he scuffed his tattered sneakers clean on the mat, then followed him up the stairs. Roman paused at the top, peering around the banister anxiously.

Virgil followed his gaze to see Patton wiping down an already-clean table, a vacant, worried look on his face as he reset the centerpiece and menus. A quick glance around the cafe confirmed his suspicion that Patton had been stress-cleaning. Books were shuffled around on the shelves, one set of shelves organized by colour, another by height, a third by genre.

“Hey, hon,” He called out, staying with Roman, resting his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.

Patton jerked at the sound of his voice, whirling around and lighting up as he spotted them. “You’re back!” He flung himself towards Roman, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “Oh, goodness, I was _so worried_ , I thought you’d get hurt, or lost, or-or… I don’t even know! I’m _so_ glad you’re safe, Peter!” He rambled.

Roman squirmed back in his arms, and Patton immediately released him. “Um, R-Roman,” He stammered, clearly a bit overwhelmed by Patton’s response to seeing him.

Patton paused for a beat, blinked, then nodded, the sunshine-bright smile returning to his face. “I’m so happy to see you, Ro- is it okay if I call you Ro? Excellent name, by the way! Sounds like a Prince Charming- ooh, or a brave knight! Don’t you think, Virgil?” As he spoke, he practically dragged Roman and Virgil over to one of the couches, settling them down and throwing a blanket over their legs.

Virgil laughed, catching Patton’s nervous hands as he smoothed out wrinkles in the blanket. “Pat, hon, breathe. It’s okay. I’m fine, Roman’s safe. Come here.” He gently tugged Patton to sit down next to him, putting an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. “Everybody’s alright.”

Patton blushed, curling up and resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder. “Right, right. Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away,” He giggled awkwardly.

Roman cleared his throat, and Virgil turned his head to look at him. His small hands were clutching fistfuls of the blanket as he spoke, his voice a little shaky. “So… so what happens now? You guys aren’t going to make me go back home, are you?”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his cheek. Of course they didn’t want to send Roman back home if it wasn’t a healthy environment, but what other options did they have? Call the police? Was there a hotline for homeless children? He wrinkled his nose, reflecting on his own experience with the foster care system. That definitely didn’t appeal, either, but there was only so much they could do. It wasn’t like they could just keep him like a stray cat.

“Of course not! You can stay with us as long as you like!” Patton exclaimed. “We’ve got a spare bedroom, and I’m sure we can find some clothes that’ll fit you. That way you’ll have somewhere warm and cozy and nice to stay while we figure things out!”

… _Or_ , they could take in the random runaway child. A small, selfish part of Virgil chimed in agreement with Patton. Roman was a good kid, from what they’d seen. Besides, it wasn’t like they were kidnapping him. Just giving him somewhere to sleep for now; a stable and positive environment during this whole debacle. It couldn’t hurt, _riiight_?

Roman’s eyes widened. “Rea- _really?_ I can just… stay with you guys?” And with the soft hope shining on his face, there went Virgil’s strength of will for the night.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can’t see a problem with him staying here for now, at least.” Virgil reached over and tousled Roman’s hair. “How about we get home, get some sleep, and then we can look into what to do in the morning?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Patton chirped.

Roman cuddled up to Virgil, wrapping his arms around him and clinging tightly. “ _Thankyouthankyouthankyou!_ ” He exclaimed, a bright, crooked-toothed smile lighting up his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	6. Finding Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing is better than going home to family and eating good food and relaxing.”  
> –Irina Shayk

It didn’t take long to finish closing up the cafe, and they were soon on their way home. Virgil was glad he’d already cleared out the backseat of Patton’s old blue sedan for the next lot of groceries, as it gave Roman space to sit without being crowded by bags and boxes of books. Roman, meanwhile, peered out the window curiously as they drove along, watching the trees and buildings lit up by the headlights of the car before they slipped past and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Patton pulled into their apartment block’s parking lot, and was around to Roman’s door before Virgil could even unbuckle his seatbelt. He chuckled as his husband scooped up the small boy into another quick hug before setting him down and grabbing the box of leftover baked goods from the other seat.

Virgil led Roman across to the front door and upstairs, making sure to keep an eye on him in case he stumbled on the slightly uneven steps. Roman bounded up them effortlessly, though, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders as he scaled the staircase. Patton followed close behind them, carefully balancing the wide, thin box of pastries and biscuits, humming cheerfully.

Virgil… _really_ wished he’d had a camera right then. When he unlocked and opened the front door, stepping back to let Roman enter first, he’d frozen at first. He took a couple of small steps over the threshold, eyes as wide as dinner plates as he looked around the living room.

Aesthetically speaking, it was very much a reflection of everything that they’d put into the cafe. Fairy lights were hung carefully around the edges of the room, and as Virgil reached across to the power point near the door, they flickered on; a warm, soft glow around the cozy space. The couches here did match, but the patches covering old repairs were a variety of colours and patterns- floral and rainbow and zigzag and galaxies peeking between the pale blue.

Roman looked over his shoulder. “ _This_ is your _house_?” He whispered, voice laced with excited disbelief.

“Sure is. Go on,” Virgil urged, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Have a look around, explore the apartment.”

“ _Mi casa es su casa!_ ” Patton beamed, setting the box on a table near the door. “Come on, Ro, I’ll show you ar-”

“ _¿Tu hablas español?_ ” Roman interrupted, snapping to look at Patton, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“ _¡Por supuesto! Mi mamá es cubana,_ ” Patton clapped his hands together, clearly delighted.

Virgil couldn’t follow most of the rapid stream of Spanish that Roman babbled out, but between the adoring expression on his face as he gushed to Patton, and Patton’s sparkling eyes, he could tell that the two were bonding over their shared language. He knew bits and pieces; growing up with Patton, he’d picked up words and phrases- mostly curse words and sappy declarations of love- but it warmed his heart to see Patton so excited as they spoke.

“Patton, hon, should we finish showing Roman around?” Virgil smiled, reaching over to prod him gently in the arm.

“ _Oh!_ Oh, of course. Sorry, I guess we got a little distracted,” Patton giggled. “How about you show Ro around, and I’ll sort out some clean clothes for him? I think we still have some spare stuff from when your cousin and her kids stayed over.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure thing. Hey, kid, how’s it sound if I run you a bath and we get you some clean PJs?” He suggested, turning to face Roman again.

Roman paused for a moment, clinging to his worn red jacket, before nodding. “Um… yes, please,” He said softly as he slipped off his backpack and set it down by the front door, toeing off his shoes as he did so.

Virgil tousled his hair again before making his way into the bathroom, Roman trotting along behind him. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet as Virgil started running the bath, his legs swinging back and forth, his small socked feet drumming against the porcelain base.

“You can drop your dirty clothes over there when you hop in,” Virgil gestured towards the half-full launder hamper that hung from a hook on the wall. “Patton or I will wash ‘em and have ‘em back for you in the morning, alright?”

“Thank you,” Roman nodded, his eyes fixed on the basket.

Virgil watched him for a few seconds, as he added a dash of bubble bath liquid, a little thrown off by how still he was. This was the same kid who spent an hour and a half squealing with Patton about princes, right? The same kid who’d snapped right to teasing Virgil back when he’d poked playfully at how much he sang? “Hey, are you okay?” He asked. “You look like a helium balloon someone poked a hole in.”

Roman blinked, turning his head to meet his gaze. “Wh… why helium?”

“Because you’re squeaky, bouncy, and I’ve never seen anything bring you down,” Virgil reached over, tipping up his chin lightly. “What’s on your mind, short stack?”

“Oh. Nothing, I’m okay,” Roman shook his head.

Virgil raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

“No, for _real_ this time!” He insisted, crossing his arms and sticking out his chin. “I just don’t wanna make a mess or anything. Especially since you have a nice house and stuff, I don’t want to ruin it… I guess.” He sagged a little as he spoke, the proud indignance melting into uncertainty.

“Kiddo, trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. We’re hardly super neat freaks, so you can chill. Even if anyone makes a mess- you, me, or Patton- we’ll just work together and tidy up. That’s what me and Pat’ve always done.”

Roman’s face twitched with an emotion Virgil didn’t quite recognize before he nodded again. “… Okay.” He hopped off the toilet, peering at the bathtub. “It’s kinda full, isn’t it gonna spill?”

Virgil gave a start, snapping around to lunge for the tap handles before it overflowed. “ _Gah-!_ ” He twisted them around quickly to shut off the flow of water. “My bad. Nice save, kid,” He wheezed. “Patton would’ve kicked my butt if I flooded the bathroom again.”

“ _Again?_ ” Roman’s eyes widened.

“No time for questions, you got a tub of steamy goodness to tend to.” Virgil clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “We’ll be just out in the living room, give a yell if you need anything, okay?”

Roman nodded once more. “Alright. Thanks.”

Virgil left the bathroom, shut the door behind him, then walked over to flop onto the couch. “Goblin prince is in the tub,” He announced as Patton appeared out of their bedroom, a bundle of clothing in his arms.

Patton swatted his shoulder. “Oh, knock it off!” He chided. “You adore him, I know you do.”

“I love nothing and nobody,” Virgil droned, slouching further into the couch cushions. “My heart is as cold as ice, hard as granite, untouched by anything on this mortal plane.”

Patton giggled, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Mm-hm. My big, strong, tough, badass man,” He teased.

“I said mortal plane. Angels like _you_ don’t count, babe,” Virgil retorted, pulling Patton into his lap and dotting kisses across his face. He was rewarded with more peals of laughter, and couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on his own face at the delightful sound.

“Hey, hey, _easy!_ ” Patton squeaked, his face flushed red as he giggled, squirming slightly in Virgil’s grip. “I’m gonna get hiccups if I laugh too hard!”

Virgil pulled him close, burying his face in Patton’s soft messy curls. “You’re adorable,” He hummed happily.

“And you’re a cutie pie,” Patton murmured, nuzzling close to his neck. “I love you, so much.”

“Really? How much?” Virgil’s voice took on a teasing lilt as he spoke.

“More than all the stars shine in the sky,” Patton answered immediately.

“Well, I love you more than the soft glow of an almost-full moon,” Virgil responded.

“I love you more than tiny hermit crabs in big, big shells.”

Virgil smiled at the mental image. “I love you more than copper windchimes.”

“I love you more than antique stores full of old tea sets.”

“I love you more than just-bloomed heather swaying in a summer breeze.”

Patton shivered a little, and Virgil laughed. “That’s practically cheating,” He mumbled.

“Does that mean you give up?”

“Never.” Patton shook his head, his curls brushing against Virgil’s face. “I love you more than smooth, pretty calligraphy done with real ink.”

“I love you more than fresh coffee with creamy milk and sugar.”

Patton was quiet for a moment as he thought. “I love you more than…” His eyes lit up. “I love you more than the yellowed pages of an old family recipe book!”

Virgil hissed through his teeth. “Alright, alright, you win _this_ round, jelly bean,” He conceded.

Patton beamed, and his bright-as-sunshine smile sent a happy thrill through Virgil. “ _Yes!_ ” He squealed happily.

“Um, excuse me?” Virgil twisted around to see Roman peeking out from the hallway, a towel clumsily wrapped around himself. “Um… sorry, but… um… can I have some help washing my hair?” He asked shyly, half-hiding behind the corner of the wall.

“Of _course_ you can, sweetheart!” Patton cooed, bouncing to his feet. He pecked Virgil on the cheek before trotting over and offering a hand to Roman. “Let’s get those lovely locks soft and shiny, hm?”

Roman took his hand and giggled. “Thank you,” He said sweetly as he swung their joined hands.

“ _¡Eres muy bienvenido!_ ” Patton tousled his slightly damp hair as he led Roman back into the bathroom. “Oooh, bubbles!”

Virgil grinned to himself. Patton sounded almost more excited about the bubbles than Roman seemed to be. It was little things like that that made Patton such a bright person to be around. His warm smile. His adorable, bubbly laugh. His kindness. The way he loved fiercely with all his heart. The way he loved people and pets and clouds and flowers and foods and smells and blankets and life.

While Virgil hated to sound like some cheesy romance movie cliche, Patton took his breath away, and he fell a little more in love with him every day.

“ _Hooooooon?_ ” Patton called from the bathroom, breaking Virgil from his thoughts.

“ _Yeeeeaaaah?_ ” Virgil pushed himself to his feet, already heading towards them as he responded. “What’s up?”

“Um… the shampoo bottle’s empty, and the new bottle is up on the top shelf, and…” Patton waved helplessly, stretched up on his tiptoes. His fingers just grazed the bottom of the shelf, a good couple of inches short of reaching the green bottle.

Virgil shook his head fondly. “Yeah, don’t worry, I got it,” He replied. He walked over to where Patton stood, easily grabbed the bottle, and handed it to the shorter man. “That all you guys need?”

Roman popped up from a pile of bubbles, his hair wet and his face flushed from the warmth of the water. “Virgil! _Look!_ ” He exclaimed as he scooped up a handful of bubbles, then blew on them, making the foam float around the room like snowflakes.

“Anybody would think you haven’t had a bubble bath before, kiddo,” Virgil leaned over to scoop up a palm full of bubbles and deposit them on top of Roman’s head.

“I haven’t!” Roman responded, practically vibrating as he scooped more bubbles up, squishing them between his hands. “This is so fun! And they’re so light and fluffy and soft! And they smell nice!”

Virgil felt Patton melt, without even looking in his direction. “Well, it’s an honour to be part of your first ever bubble bath experience, then, bud,” He nodded as he leaned back against the counter.

Roman giggled again. “ _Virgil es muy agradable, ¿verdad?_ ” He asked Patton.

“ _El realmente es. Por eso me casé con él, después de todo._ ” Patton replied as he bobbed down next to the bathtub and started to lather up Roman’s hair.

“Hey, I may not know Spanish, but I know my _name_ when I hear it,” Virgil complained, poking Patton gently with his toe. “What are you slandering my name with now?”

“All good things, all good things!” Patton assured him, then sent Roman a very obvious conspiratorial wink.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. That’s what you said when you ripped Chloe Casiano to shreds in sophomore year.”

“She started it,” Patton shook his head as he scrubbed shampoo into Roman’s hair. He wrinkled his nose as his hands came away grey. “Gosh, Ro, hon, has it been a while since your hair’s been washed?”

“Um… I haven’t been able to have a proper shower in a while,” Roman answered, shrinking in on himself a little. “And Mom and Dad don’t really help me wash my hair, and I don’t like doing it because I always get soap in my eyes, and it stings a lot, and, um… yeah.”

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart, it’s not your fault!” Patton hummed. “Me and Virge will help you, and we can help you learn how to do it and not get it in your eyes. Sound good?”

“Mm-hm!”

“Perfect! Now, just tip your head back for me, sweetpea, and I’ll rinse your hair a bit and we’ll see how it looks, hm?”

Roman leaned his head back, and Patton scooped up water in the plastic cup that sat by the tap, then gently tipped it over his hair to rinse away some of the soap and grit and dirt. It looked so much lighter after that, and Virgil smiled.

“What, is your hair blonde under all that muck?” He joked, easing himself down to sit on the floor next to Patton.

“Uh-huh!” Roman chirped.

“Wait,” Virgil blinked, taken off guard. “ _Really?_ ”

Sure enough, as Patton washed, rinsed, and then dried his hair, a poofy mess of curly blonde hair was revealed. Patton squealed as he ran his fingers through it, rambling excitedly. “ _Dios mío, eres tan lindo! ¡Nunca me hubiera imaginado que tu cabello fuera tan rizado!_ ”

Roman blushed and shook his head stubbornly. “ _¡No soy lindo!_ ” He argued.

“ _Muy lindo,_ ” Virgil drawled. “Very, very cute and tiny. The smallest. A total shorty.”

“Pattoooon!” Roman whined, clinging to Patton’s sleeve. “I’m not that short, am I?”

“Well… I’m sure you’ll grow! You’re probably gonna end up taller than me, so!” Patton ruffled his hair lightly.

Roman groaned, sagging against him. “I’m _nooooot!_ “ He whined.

Patton giggled and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss into his hair. "Aw, it’s not so bad! Being small can be great! You can fit into small spaces, and you don’t hit your head on low ceilings, and you can get piggybacks, and… there’s a lot of really neat stuff!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roman grumbled half-heartedly, turning in Patton’s arms and burying his face against his shirt.

Virgil grinned as he got to his feet and stretched. “Mm… you guys hungry? I think we have some pasta bake in the fridge still,” He suggested.

“Sounds perfect, _mi alma!_ ” Patton beamed. “I’ll go set the table while Ro gets dressed, then we can have some dinner!”

Roman nodded enthusiastically, pulling the towel tighter around himself. “Yes, please!”

Virgil gave them a thumbs up, then slipped out of the room. He made his way into the kitchen, humming to himself as he went. Patton popped in behind him as he slid the dish into the microwave.

“So…” Patton hummed as he fished cutlery out of the drawer under the coffeemaker. “We should probably start looking at where the poor lost little bird came from, huh?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. “From what he said earlier, his parents aren’t exactly the most attentive, but I’m sure they’ve noticed he’s missing.” He twisted a dishcloth in his hands for a few seconds as he thought. Patton waited for him to continue, the soft hum of the microwave bridging the silence between them. “… I’ll start looking on Facebook and stuff in the morning. Maybe there’s one of those search party pages or whatever.”

Patton crossed the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Virgil in a hug. “And what do we do if we can’t find anything?” He asked softly, leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder.

“I dunno,” Virgil admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll figure something out-”

“ _Virgiiiiil? I got my hair stuck in a button!_ ” Roman whined from the other room.

“- And everything’ll be fine,” He finished, then pecked Patton on the forehead before heading towards the distressed boy. “Coming, bud! Try not to pull on it unless you want a bald patch!” He chuckled at the alarmed squawk he got in response as he ducked out the kitchen door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
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> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	7. Isn't It Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the most wonderful things that will ever happen to us.”
> 
> ― Nicole Reed

Over the next couple of days, between tending to customers, cleaning tables, baking treats, and snuggling his husband, Patton spent his time pretty much glued to Roman’s side. The two of them talked for hours about movies and jokes and cartoons. The child’s laughter and delighted surprise every time Patton whipped out a pun or a reference warmed his heart.

It was a late Thursday night when Patton was startled awake by Roman shrieking. He fumbled for his glasses as Virgil stirred beside him. “Shh, it’s okay, I got it,” He whispered, awkwardly patting Virgil’s shoulder.

“Mm… call me ‘f you need me,” Virgil mumbled, his voice rough and sleepy.

Patton’s heart swelled with love for the protective, caring gleam in his husband’s half-closed eyes. He kissed him on the cheek before stumbling out of bed, then made his way down the hallway towards the guest room where Roman was staying. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s me,” He called softly as he nudged the door open. 

It took a moment of bleary eyed blinking for him to realise that Roman was not, in fact, in bed. The covers had been flung off, left in a chaotic tangle that hung off the side of the bed. 

“… Ro? Where are you, hon?” He asked softly, running his gaze over the room.

“Closet,” A muffled voice responded nervously.

Patton made his way over to the closet set into the wall of the bedroom across from the door and bobbed down in front of it. “Can I open the door?” He asked.

The sliding door slowly slipped across with a faint squeak, revealing a pale and shaky looking Roman curled up in the corner. “… Hi,” He said. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Oh, _honey_ , it’s okay,” Patton soothed. “What’s wrong?”

Roman hesitated, then scooched to the side, making room in the small space underneath the coats hanging above him. Patton took the invitation and crawled in, his legs curled awkwardly under him, and opened his arms. Roman cuddled up to him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing against him as Patton started to gently run his fingers through his hair.

“I had a bad dream,” He whispered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Patton pressed his face into the boy’s hair, his arms wrapped gently around him.

Roman nodded, the words spilling out of him in a rush. “I, um… I was with my parents. And they were yelling. There were other people there, some of their friends, I think. They were all yelling at each other. And I was standing behind them all, and I couldn’t breathe, and they were all so angry, and I started crying, and Dad yelled at me to shut up, and… and-”

He burst into tears, and Patton’s heart throbbed. “Oh, Roman, sweetheart, _it’s okay._ Let it all out, honey, you’re safe. I _promise_ , everything’s okay.” He murmured, rubbing Roman’s back as he cried, his small body jerking violently with each sob.

Every fibre of his being ached for Roman, every jolt of his shoulders sending another sharp needle lancing through Patton’s heart. There had to be some way to help him, better than sending him home or abandoning him to the cold chaos of the foster care system. They had to find some way to keep him safe and happy and warm and-

He cut off his own train of thought with a deep breath. _No use getting worked up_ , he scolded himself gently. _That isn’t going to help anybody._ So he sat there, his hands lightly tracing shapes over Roman’s back, peppering kisses into his hair as Roman cried and clung to him.

Eventually, gradually, Roman began to quiet. His sobs ebbed into sniffles, and the shuddering of his shoulders faded into a slight tremble. Patton didn’t move, not yet. The last thing he wanted was to disturb Roman before he was ready. He clearly needed hugs, needed love, needed kisses and toys and warm food and stories and songs.

Roman shuffled, and he loosened his grip so that he could move back a little. It was hard to see in the dark of the closet, surrounded by jackets and scarves, but Patton could still see his face, red and streaked with tears. “ _Thank you,_ ” He whispered.

“Anytime, Ro. _Really,_ ” Patton promised, brushing back his fringe and leaning forward to kiss his forehead again. “Would you like to sleep in our bed tonight?”

Roman brightened, and Patton’s heart fluttered happily at the faint smile on his face. “Really? You’re _sure_ you don’t mind?” He tilted his head to the side, his grip on Patton’s pyjama shirt tightening.

“Of course!” Patton chuckled. “Come on, my legs are gonna fall asleep if we stay squeezed up in here, cozy as it is.”

Roman scampered over his lap, popping out of the closet with a giggle. “That’s just ‘cause you got _old man legs_!” He teased as he poked his tongue out at Patton.

Patton gasped in mock offense, placing a hand against his chest as he crawled out of the closet. “Hey, well these ‘old man legs’ can still catch little princes!” He growled playfully, advancing on Roman, who shrieked in delight and dodged to the side.

“No way! You can’t get me!” He declared, vaulting onto the bed and bouncing up and down on it. 

“Oh, _really?”_ Patton winked before pouncing, scooping Roman out of the air mid-bounce and attacking his belly and sides with probing fingers. Roman squealed, twisting and wriggling in his arms to try and get away from the assault of tickles. “Nobody escapes the tickle monster!” Patton exclaimed with a grin.

He shifted Roman so that he was held over his shoulder, the pair of them still giggling as he carried him out to the hallway, almost bumping into a very sleepy Virgil who was making his way towards them, his hand pressed to the wall to find his way in the dark.

“… Heard yellin’,” Virgil yawned and leaned against the wall, scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Tickle fight,” Roman informed him solemnly, twisting to meet his eyes over Patton’s head.

Virgil took a moment to process, then nodded. “I see. Serious business then, eh?” He nudged Roman, who burst into another fit of giggles. He glanced to Patton while Roman was distracted, a clear inquiry for an explanation.

Patton shook his head and mouthed, _‘Bad dream’._

Virgil nodded again, then paused, looking between Roman’s doorway and the doorway to their room. _‘Our bed?’_ He mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

Patton flashed a sweet smile, hoping it would be enough to win him over. _‘Just tonight?’_

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly and jerked his head towards their room. “Alright, kid, if you’re coming, let’s go. You might have the luxury of being carried, but these floorboards are colder than a midsummer Arendelle.“

Roman snorted. "Yeah, right, Grim Burton.” He wriggled out of Patton’s grasp, landing on the floorboards with a gasp. He immediately clung to Virgil, and scrambled to climb up him. “ _Ohmygoshthat'sabsolutelyfreezing!_ ” He whined.

Virgil rolled his eyes, easily plucking Roman off the ground and swinging him around so he clung to his back like a baby koala. Patton giggled at the sight, clasping his hands together in delight. “Come on, then, Sleepless Beauty, let’s get back to bed before you get any more hyped up.” With that, Virgil turned on his heel and carried Roman back into the cozy warmth of his and Patton’s bedroom.

Patton smiled dreamily after them for a moment before he followed. There was something so sweet about seeing the two of them together, teasing and playing and cuddling. It warmed him to his core, sent tickly tingles of happiness from his toes right to the tips of his hair. The urge to bake rocketed through him, but he settled for waving his hands in front of him in excitement, giggling quietly for a few seconds. 

He was worried that the sudden flurry of movement would disturb the other two, but when he peered through the half-open door of the bedroom, Virgil was already sprawled across the bed in his usual gangly fashion, his long limbs sticking out at odd angles. Roman had burrowed into the blankets and was curled up in a ball with his back against Virgil’s side. He reminded Patton suddenly of a kitten.

He hung back in the doorway, watching the pair of them. Virgil reached over to rest a hand on Roman’s back, mumbling something which made the boy laugh again, a sweet, soft laugh like tinkling bells. Patton’s stomach fluttered pleasantly at the sound, like he’d swallowed stardust that danced and twirled and twinkled inside him, and that took him a little by surprise. He’d had that feeling exactly three times in his life. 

The first he could remember was when he was quite small, feeling his father’s large, strong hands throwing him up into the air. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture the layout of their backyard, strewn with toys and gardening tools. In those moments, he’d felt like Daddy was teaching him to fly, like if he learned the secret to hang in the air just a half-second longer then the two of them could soar up into the endless sky for forever. ( _‘Like birds, Daddy!’_ ) Patton had, of course, always come back down, into his father’s arms, the two of them laughing and clinging tightly to each other, their cheeks pressed together, until Mom called them inside for dinner, and Patton loved him so much he felt that his heart would burst.

The second was after his mother died. It was a painful time for the whole family. His father had been away on a business trip, and Patton was staying with his grandmother. He could only recall vague, painful snatches from the day. Daddy had appeared on the doorstep, his coat already half-off his shoulders, his face red and cracked and painful, and swept him up into a tight hug, so tight he could hardly breathe. ( _‘I love you so much, ~~Pippa~~.’_) He remembered sitting on the living room floor, his legs splayed on either side of the dollhouse he had in front of him, and his grandmother being too distracted with whatever it was Daddy was explaining to her in a low voice to tell him off for sitting in such an ~~unladylike~~ way. 

He’d stayed with Abuelita that night, and the next, and the night after that, and every night Daddy promised that he’d pick him up before long. ( _‘I just need to sort out a few more things, ~~princess~~. I’ll see you soon.’_) Eventually Daddy stopped calling. Patton understood. Talking was painful, both of them always holding their breath and waiting for that third musical voice to join their conversations. For a long time, Patton hated Abuelita’s house, hated the lace and the dainty trinkets and the biting lemon air freshener, hated eating the food that wasn’t his Mom’s, hated Abuelita. He came home from school one day, just a few months later, to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, tears rolling down her face, a scrapbook from Mom’s quinceañera sitting open on the table, they hadn’t spoken. He’d slid into the chair next to her, and the two of them had held each other as they cried. The next morning he’d woken up to find Abuelita with a brand new recipe book, flicking through the pages to make something for breakfast. ( _‘We’ll make new foods, ~~chiquita~~. New foods and new memories.’_)

The third was when he came out. It was just after his 14th birthday, and Abuelita was already loudly planning his own ~~quinceañera~~. Everything about it just… rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t sure if it was the whole coming-of-age thing, the cost, or… ~~something else. Something he was pretty sure he knew, but didn’t want to think about.~~ He’d been over at Virgil’s house, pacing back and forth, his hands tightening into fists ~~, clutching the powder blue skirt swishing around his knees.~~ Virgil lay on his bed, his legs up against the wall and his head hanging upside-down off the edge of the bed, watching his best friend rant. He’d let Patton go on for a few minutes, his face gradually darkening into a concerned frown, before interrupting and asking the question that had brought what Patton thought he knew about himself crashing down. ( _‘ ~~Pip~~ , you **love** cheesy parties and fancy outfits and sappy customs… so why are you **really** against this?’_) 

Virgil had stuck right by his side as they poured over internet articles and forums, as they watched movies and shows and read books, as they flicked through books of names and their meanings. He’d held Patton’s hand in a comfortingly tight grip as he explained to Abuelita, in a voice thick with tears and anxiety, that he wasn’t a girl. That he wanted to be called by a different name, to cut his hair and get chunkier glasses that didn’t make his face look so round and soft. That he didn’t want a quinces, or dresses, or makeup. Abuelita had gazed at him silently for a long, tense second, and then requested to speak with him alone. Virgil had bitten back, refusing, but Patton squeezed his hand and nodded, and Virgil had, after a moment, stepped back, the protective flame within him down but still smouldering.

Once he was out of the room, Abuelita had gotten up from her chair in the kitchen, gathered him into her arms, and kissed the top of his hair. She had cooed softly in Spanish as Patton trembled in her arms, tears spilling over to drip down his cheeks. ( _‘Oh, darling, I love you. ~~Chiquita~~ , I-’ She paused. ‘Chiquito, I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you and love you, for always.’_) They’d called Virgil in, both of them crying and smiling, and he’d immediately wrapped his arms around Patton in a tight hug. Patton had blubbered near-incoherent words of gratitude into his shoulder, and Virgil had rubbed his back and whispered comfortingly. ( _‘Anytime, Pat. I got your back, always. Promise.’_ )

Looking in from the doorway, it dawned on Patton exactly what it was Roman needed. Hugs and food, sure, but what he really needed was family. He needed that love. That safety and security that no matter how high he flew, how much he hurt, how scary something seemed, someone would be there to hold him and be by his side. And in that moment, Patton made up his mind. 

Come hell or high water, he would be that person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	8. Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This thing we're doing here, you, me. I'm in. I am all in." 
> 
> —Luke Danes

Virgil let his forehead thunk against the wooden desk in their home office, a frustrated groan escaping his lips. _Another dead end._

He’d spent every spare moment combing through every social media he could think of. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Reddit, news sites from every state in the country. His eyes ached from squinting at text on the glowing screens of his laptop and phone.

_Roman Gorgon. Missing child blond hispanic. Missing ten year old boy. Missing boy Roman Gorgon. Missing blond boy. Roman missing child._ No combination of words conjured up the result he was looking for, no grief-stricken parents pleading for their son to be returned home. No pictures on a missing persons website. Not even a news article.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder gently, and he raised his head. Patton looked down at him sympathetically. “Still no luck?” He asked softly.

Virgil shook his head. “Nothing,” he bit out. “Not so much as a photo.”

“Are you alright?” Patton bobbed down next to him, his hand sliding down to rest on Virgil’s arm.

“… Yeah.” Virgil was, in full honesty, fucking furious. How could his parents have said nothing? It wasn’t like Roman had been gone for a day or two. The loudmouthed, daydreaming prone kid had been staying with them for nearly a week, and had been on the streets for who knows how long before that.

“Liar,” Patton pressed a kiss the back of Virgil’s hand. “But that’s okay.” Patton pulled his hand away from the computer, dotting kisses across his palm and down to his wrist, lingering on his pulse point. His breath was warm and his lips were soft, and Virgil forgot how to breath for a dizzying moment before he remembered the rest of the world.

“What do we do?” He wondered aloud, leaning back in the computer chair, ignoring the faint creak of protest.

“Are you asking me?” Patton’s tone changed suddenly. Virgil looked back down to him and paused as he spotted a sharp look in Patton’s eye.

It was something that Virgil had become all too familiar with over the years. Patton got that look before climbing trees in the orchard in his uncle’s farm to snag sweet, ripe oranges to give to Virgil. Right before he had flung water balloons at the bullies who had spray-painted Virgil’s locker in 10th Grade. Just before cussing out a homophobic teacher who was giving them grief for wanting to pair up for a group project. He hadn’t ever been able to put his finger on a single word to describe the fire in Patton’s eyes. It was determined, and warm, and hard, and icy cold, and, god, if it had been anyone but Patton it would have terrified him.

That said, having it directed _at_ him ratched his anxiety up around the level of having Patton’s family over for dinner.

“… If I was, what might your answer be?” Virgil asked cautiously, feeling less as if he were talking to his sweet-as-pie husband and more as if he were offering a steak to a snarling lion.

“He stays with us,” Patton said simply, not breaking eye contact.

Virgil sighed, twisting around to face him fully. “Patton, you _know_ he can’t-”

“Like _hell_ he can’t!” Patton exclaimed. “There has to be some way! Adoption, or-or signing up to be foster carers, or…. something!”

“Babe…” Virgil reached out towards him, but Patton swatted his hand away, clearly fuming.

“He needs a family, Virgil.” He said firmly, climbing to his feet. “He’s happy with us. And I-” Patton shook his head, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “ _I’m happy with him, damn it!_ ”

Virgil stared at him, speechless. The angry tears that shone in Patton’s eyes were painful to see, and he ached to fix it. “… Pat, I…” He started quietly, his voice cracking and trailing off.

Patton scrubbed at his eyes furiously. “I just… I want to help him. I want to be there for him, and make him lunch, and eat a little too much ice cream, and see movies. I want to have picnics and worry when he climbs just a little too high in a tree. I want to tuck him in at night, and offer him breakfast in the morning. I want to make things for his school bake sale, and help him study for exams and learn to drive.” He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, curling inwards as if trying to hold himself together. “Virge, I love him so much, already, and the thought of losing him is… I’d rather _die_ , Virgil.”

Virgil got to his feet, slowly reaching out to slip his arms around Patton and pulled him close. Patton buried his face against Virgil’s neck, clinging to Virgil like a lifeline. He ran his fingers through Patton’s soft hair as he trembled in his arms- Virgil wasn’t sure whether from sorrow or anger, but it sent a deep ache right through the core of him. “I just don’t see…” He murmured. “It’s impossible, love, we’d get _arrested_ or something-”

Patton tensed and pushed away from him with a groan of frustration. “If you’d help me look into it more, then maybe we could _find_ an answer! Instead of just roadblocking me at every turn!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“Unless you want to grab him and flee the country, we’d get charged with kidnapping or something!” Virgil crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing at the shorter man. “How do you expect us to magically make _that_ go away?!”

Tears spilled over Patton’s cheeks again, and Virgil felt a pang of guilt. “At least I’m _trying_! You just seem to want to palm him off to whatever painful fate comes his way!” He snapped.

“That’s-!” Virgil was at a loss for words for a moment, his chest tightening painfully. “That’s _not_ true! I want to do the _right_ thing here, Pat!”

“The right thing?” Patton laughed, a little hysterically, as he shook his head again. “What, so we send him back home? ‘Hey, sorry, we had a lot of fun with you, but go off back to your abusive family, the parents who you have nightmares about, head on back now, buh-bye!’”

“Of course not!” Virgil huffed. “I just mean-”

“So, the right thing is dropping him in the chaos of a government system that cares more about the numbers they can flash at the public than the individual children?” Patton scowled.

Virgil didn’t realize they’d gotten closer again until their faces were mere inches from each other. “I don’t want to ruin our lives and get _charged_ because you can’t think past what you want!” Virgil retorted acidly.

“God!” Patton spat, his voice laced with irritation and exhaustion as he wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “ _Eres tan insoportable! No puedes callarte po-_ ”

Patton let out a surprised ‘oomph’ as Virgil grabbed the front of his husband’s sweater and pulled him in for a kiss.

Virgil had no idea what he was doing. The only thing he really knew was that he was utterly, completely… in love with this man. In love with his passion and his fire, with his gentleness and care, and so completely in love with his _love_.

Suddenly, Patton was kissing him back, grabbing the sides of Virgil’s face to pull him closer- which wasn’t really possible, but Patton tried, regardless. Virgil stumbled forward until Patton’s back was pressed against the wall. The contact was a dizzying, heady rush, one he knew he would never get enough of, not if he kissed Patton like this every day for as long as they lived. He closed his eyes, leaning into it.

It was a mess. Patton’s glasses were knocked askew, jabbing into their faces. Virgil’s eyeliner was smudged across his cheeks, leaving faint grey marks on Patton’s skin. Their teeth clacked against each other a few times. But Virgil loved every second of it. It seemed to last for an eternity, before he was aware of the sudden need for oxygen. He broke the kiss, only barely pulling away. The pair paused for a moment, staring at each other warily.

“You’re still infuriating,” Virgil muttered breathlessly.

“Shut up,” Patton replied instantly, just as breathless, and grabbed the sides of Virgil’s face again to pull him in for another intense kiss, biting at his bottom lip, and, for _some_ reason, Virgil found that he forgot what they’d been talking about.

It was a while later before the pair of them caught their breath enough to speak. Virgil was stretched along the couch across the back wall of the office, with Patton cuddled up to him, his head leaning on Virgil’s bare chest, their legs intertwined. Virgil had dragged the thermal blanket off the back of the couch to cover them both.

Patton was tracing patterns over Virgil’s chest, and he shivered at the feather-light contact. “Um…” He cleared his throat and waited for Patton to look up at his face before he continued. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should have listened to you. That was… majorly dickish of me.” Patton’s soft expression as he listened attentively felt like it was burning holes in his soul. He turned his gaze up towards the roof as he spoke. “I… I don’t know how we’d be able to make it work, or where to even begin, but… I shouldn’t be shutting you down. I’m sorry, Pat.”

He felt Patton shift, and lips gently press to the underside of his jaw. “I’m sorry, too,” Patton replied, his voice soft and a little hoarse. “I know it’s… irrational, but… I really do love him. I can’t stand the thought of just… letting him go. Even if it would be for the best.”

Virgil sighed. “Maybe we can do some research into adopting abandoned kids. Maybe there _is_ a loophole or something we don’t know about.” His hands roamed over Patton’s back, making the smaller man squirm slightly. He smiled as he looked back down at him. “It’s worth a try, at least.”

Patton returned his smile, shifting position again so that he sat straddling Virgil, and leaned in close to brush their noses together. “Thank you,” He murmured. “I love you… so much.”

His lips brushed against Virgil’s, who whined softly and whispered back, “I love you, too.”

Patton giggled, pressing a kiss to the corner of Virgil’s mouth. “We should get to bed. It’s late,” He hummed half-heartedly.

“Yeeeaaah…” Virgil nodded, a wicked grin flashing onto his face. “Or we could just spend the night in here. Pretty comfy couch, pillows, blankets. Nice views.” He looked Patton up and down and gave an exaggerated wink. “Makes a man not wanna leave.”

Patton blushed bright pink and swatted lightly at Virgil’s chest. “You’re the _worst_!” He chided, a badly-suppressed smile lighting up his face.

“Mmm, you know you love it,” Virgil murmured before pulling him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	9. Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I once asked her if she got bored living alone, and she said, 'To say one is bored to be alone is to admit that one has no inner resources.”
> 
> ― Lois Battle

Logan drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, the pitter-patter mixing with the sound of raindrops hitting the windows. His windshield wipers squeaked back and forth across the glass, clearing the view of the road.

He sighed. The drive home from his office was often dull, but the damp weather had everyone down to a snail’s pace. It was somewhat irritating, but he appreciated that at least drivers around here actually knew how to drive. In his hometown, there already would be half a dozen cars screeching down the road in the emergency lane, weaving through traffic and narrowly avoiding a collision.

He suddenly found himself wishing that Virgil was present in the car. They’d gone to separate schools, but had apparently spent their teenage years in the same town. They’d had many conversations about various places, people, and events they both knew, and Logan was often astonished at the fact they hadn’t met before, having seemingly just missed each other on multiple occasions.

For example, Logan’s younger sister, Lola, had been bullied quite severely by a rather… _unpleasant_ group of students in her year level. Virgil’s younger brother, Christopher, had been under attack by the same group. After learning of this, Logan and Virgil had, completely independently of each other, confronted the group. Logan sometimes wondered which had scared them off- his own threats of turning in documentation to the principal and potentially getting them expelled, or Virgil’s threat of knocking out their teeth and stringing them into a necklace.

Virgil was an… _aggressively_ protective individual. Logan had heard stories from Cora, who had been part of the school’s cooking club with Patton, and personally witnessed Virgil ripping into a homophobic customer who had upset Patton. Logan had to admit, it was kind of fascinating to watch Virgil, a usually chill, unruffled kind of guy, lose his shit at somebody.

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he turned the corner onto his street. Home stretch, just a few miles and he could curl up with his dog and a cup of coffee, and turn off his phone to ignore his coworkers and his siblings. Emily pestered him sometimes about whether he was ever going to have children of his own- especially considering how much he loved working with them- and judging by the baby photos and messages she’d been sending him all day, it was looking like one of those nights.

Children were… a lot of responsibility, 24/7. There were a lot of parents who weren’t ready for that, or didn’t have the time and energy or inclination to spend time with their children. He knew that, had seen it a thousand times at work. The amount of children he’d seen go into the foster care or adoption system because their birth parents couldn’t or _wouldn’t_ look after them was heartbreaking.

The thing was, much and all as he did adore kids, he knew he probably wouldn’t ever have kids of his own. He was too busy, always running around after his sisters and workmates and case children. It wouldn’t be fair for him to have a kid, not when he couldn’t give them the time and attention that they needed.

He wondered offhand who of his friends and family would end up having children he could dote on. Emily had her son, and he was very excited to help look after them and play with them and be a good uncle, so there was one already fulfilled. Cora was married, but he wasn’t sure if she had any plans regarding motherhood, and considering her wild nature, it probably wouldn’t be a topic of conversation for anytime soon. Lola was right out, he thought with a chuckle. She was perfectly content with her pets, spoiling them with toys and jackets and beds and fancy food.

He couldn’t see Kai and Lauren having kids, they were still quite young. Though, if they did, he was pretty confident that Kai would be a good father. Toby and Magenta were very rough around the edges, but he supposed he could imagine the two of them having a softer side, if it ever came to it. Patton and Virgil would most definitely be loving parents, he decided as he pulled into his driveway and climbed out of the car. The pair of them were kind, had a good sense of humour, and always made time for family. Not to mention the fact that the two of them absolutely _doted_ on any children who appeared in the cafe.

He paused as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. Come to think of it, there had been one child in particular who had been there every time he visited recently. A small boy who clung to Patton at any opportunity and followed Virgil around like a duckling after its mother.

… _Surely_ they would have mentioned if they’d adopted a kid. Especially with all of the paperwork and waiting involved, he found it hard to believe that Patton wouldn’t have gushed about their new son.

He chewed his lip as he locked his car and started to head inside. They didn’t seem the type to _abduct_ a child or anything in that heinous kind of vein, but… something about it seemed off. It certainly seemed to warrant further investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	10. Parting Is Such Sour Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The two hardest things to say in life are hello for the first time and goodbye for the last.”
> 
> -Moira Rogers

Roman drummed his fingers on the tabletop of his usual table near the counter as he watched Virgil flit around the room, offering refills and recommending books to customers as they wandered around the cafe. He sipped his own drink, a tall glass filled to the brim with a frothy, sweet hot chocolate, and grinned. Virgil deftly stepped over a spilled drink, snatched the mop from the corner and wiped the floor clean on his next pass without ever missing a beat. Roman still wondered sometimes if Virgil really was a fae of some sort. He was so… graceful.

The front door slammed shut, and a tall man appeared at the top of the stairs. Roman had seen him around the cafe quite a few times, he seemed to be a regular. Patton and Virgil would usually sit with him and chat for a few minutes, and then return to their usual flow of running the cafe. Roman tried to remember his name. Liam? Landon?

“Heya, Logan!” Patton greeted him cheerfully from behind the counter.

Ah. So close, and yet so far, Roman mused as he took another bite of his sandwich.

“Hello, Patton. Would I be able to speak with you and Virgil? Privately?” Logan asked quietly. “It’s quite important.”

“Well, of course! V, hon, can you come here for a minute?” Patton called, making the taller man pause in his rhythmic pattern and look towards them.

“Yeah, coming,” Virgil responded. He ruffled Roman’s hair affectionately as he passed.

Roman noticed Logan watching the brief interaction closely, and felt a shiver run through him at the stony expression on his face. Something felt wrong, but he was sure Virgil and Patton would sort it out. They seemed like they could solve any problem the world threw their way.

He sighed dreamily as they disappeared into the kitchen, his mind already wandering to a pleasant daydream. His parents had always waved him away if he asked for help with homework, but he was sure that Virgil and Patton would be able to help if he ever had difficult homework.

Patton was really quite clever when it came to history, Roman had learned. He enjoyed watching programs where people dug up pots and bones and old houses, often talking to Virgil about the significance of the items discovered, and Roman listened intently. Virgil, meanwhile, was incredibly quick at math, rattling off customer’s totals without batting an eyelid, or helping Patton figure out how much of this or that he needed to make bulk batches of food.

This, of course, only further fueled Roman’s theory that the two of them had stepped off the pages of a fairy tale. Any issue thrown their way would be quickly conquered by their combined might! He giggled quietly to himself as he imagined Virgil fighting a dragon, big and bristling as it swiped at him. It would be no match for him, naturally, and he would quickly fell the foul beast, rescuing the kidnapped victim- Roman- and sweeping him into a tight hug.

He was distracted from his wandering thoughts by the chair across from him being pulled out. “Hi, Vir-” He froze as he looked up, seeing the brown eyes and angular face of ~~the dragon~~ Logan staring back at him. “… Oh. It’s _you_.”

“Hello, there, Roman,” Logan greeted him pleasantly. “How are you going today?” He clasped his hands together on the table and smiled.

Roman looked around for Patton or Virgil, but neither of them were visible. They must still be in the kitchen, he realized as he turned back to Logan. “Um… good. How are you?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m quite well, thank you. Do you mind if we talk for a bit?” Logan stared at him evenly, and Roman shrank back in his seat.

“Uh, I-I guess,” He mumbled as he grabbed his hot chocolate and drank from it. His gaze dropped to the table, unwilling to meet his eyes. “What about?”

“Well, I wanted to ask how you know Virgil and Patton.”

Roman’s stomach dropped. “… Why should I tell you? Who even _are_ you, anyway?” He snapped.

“Well, my name is Logan Kennard. I’m a social worker, one who works with children in…” He paused for a moment. “… Less than ideal circumstances. I know a bit about you, and I know you’re a long way from home, Roman. I wanted to ask you what was happening before we do anything about the whole… situation.”

“ _Don’t get them in trouble!_ ” Roman blurted out loudly. He clapped his hands over his mouth as several customers glanced over at them at his outburst, his face red.

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“They, um, they haven’t done anything bad!” Roman insisted in a softer voice. “I… they helped me. I didn’t have anywhere to stay, and they let me come to the cafe, and-and then Virgil came and found me after I ran away, and he talked to me, and they offered, and I wanted to go with them. They didn’t take me or anything bad like that. They’re really nice, I promise!”

Logan nodded, scribbling into a small notebook. “Right.” He snapped it closed and set it down on the table. He leaned forward a little, his expression softening. “Roman, you know they should have called the police, right? People can’t just take in kids off the street, there are rules about this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” He mumbled. “But they’re really, really nice. And I really like them.”

“I know. But you can’t stay with them.” Logan drummed his fingers on the table lightly. “Why are you out here, anyway? Your parents must be worried about you.”

They wouldn’t be. “I ran away,” Roman shrugged, curling in on himself again. “I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“… Are your parents abusive to you?” Logan asked, his voice softer than Roman had ever heard it.

Well, they didn’t hit him or anything, and that’s what abuse was, right? He’d seen it on TV shows that his mother watched, crime shows with angry husbands and terrified wives and brooding detectives. “No,” He shrugged. “I just… don’t like it.”

Logan sat back and looked at him. His gaze was sharp and appraising, and Roman squirmed under the weight of it. It was a few uncomfortable seconds before he spoke again. “Well then, Roman, we need to send you home.”

The lump in his throat solidified into a rock in his stomach. “W-what?” He stuttered. “Back to my parents?”

Logan nodded. “If there’s problems once you get settled back in, we’ll be able to look at you being placed into foster care and finding a better home for you.” He picked up the notebook and started to stand.

Roman jumped to his feet, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes, and shouted as he swatted at Logan’s chest. “I don’t _want_ to go back! I want to stay! You stupid-!”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and he shrieked, starting to cry as Patton appeared in front of him, shushing him and stroking his hair. “It’s okay, kid, everything’s gonna be okay,” Virgil murmured in his ear from behind him.

Logan watched them, his expression unreadable, and Roman hated him for it. He hated his round glasses and his cold eyes, hated his notebook and his straight shoulders and stupid tie. Why couldn’t he just _listen?_ He was as bad as everyone else Roman had met, not like Patton and Virgil.

He stifled another sob as Virgil scooped him up, holding him close as Roman trembled. “Come on, buddy, let’s go back to the apartment,” He said softly.

“But-but what about the cafe?” Roman whimpered. “It’s only lunchtime.”

“Patton can close up and follow us home later. We need to go grab your stuff.”

“But, I don’t-!”

“I know, bud.” Virgil shook his head, already striding across the cafe towards the staircase, a frown on his face. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	11. See You Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Goodbyes are not forever, are not the end; it simply means I'll miss you until we meet again."
> 
> -Author Unknown

Roman scrubbed at his cheeks with his sleeve. It was already damp with tears and did little to clean his face, and he huffed. Typical. Even his own jacket was turning against him today. That fit into the afternoon’s events just _perfectly_.

“Roman, do you want me to put your pyjamas in a separate bag so you can find them easier tonight?” Virgil asked from across the room, bent over Roman’s drawers.

“I don’t care,” Roman pouted. “It doesn’t matter.”

Virgil sighed and looked over to him. Roman was curled up in the corner of the room, tucked in tight with his back against the slatted sliding door of the closet. “Roman, I know this sucks, but sulking isn’t going to change anything.”

“Why can’t I just stay?” Roman asked, for probably the fiftieth time since they’d left the cafe. “I’m happy here. I like you guys a whole lot.”

“And we like you a whole lot, too,” Virgil’s smile was brittle, and Roman felt a pang of guilt for his stubborn scowling. “I really wish you could stay, trust me. But we can’t. And it sucks, but it’s for the best. Lo will make sure you have somewhere safe to stay, with the stuff you need to help you. He’s good at his job.”

Roman looked up at him. “… I still wanna stay,” He mumbled. _Stop with the fucking mumbling, Roman, I can’t understand a word you’re saying!_ He jumped slightly as the familiar voice boomed through his head. No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

Virgil straightened and frowned. “… Are you okay?” He asked softly.

“Mm-hm!” Roman nodded quickly. When Virgil didn’t react, he sagged. “I guess I’m just… just upset about… all this,” He explained weakly.

Virgil sat on the bed and patted the covers next to him. He waited for Roman to uncurl and slowly make his way across the room to join him before he spoke. “You know, it’s okay to be upset about stuff, right? Like, whether it’s a big thing or a little thing, your feelings are okay. And it’s okay to talk about them.”

He wrapped an arm around Roman, who cuddled up to him, clinging to him like a lifeline. Maybe if he held on tight enough, he wouldn’t have to let go. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go back if he held onto this life and dug in his fingers and kicked his feet.

Or, he thought as Virgil reached over and tucked the stuffed monkey that Patton had bought into a bag, he’d be tossed out into the cold winds of fate, regardless of what they all wanted.

“I don’t want to go home,” He said hoarsely. “I just… I hate it. I hate it so much, Virgil.”

Virgil ran a hand through Roman’s hair and frowned sympathetically. “I know, Princey. But Logan says you gotta go. Can’t go against the man on this one, it wouldn’t end well for anybody.”

“… I’m really gonna miss you guys,” Roman whimpered, suddenly feeling a fresh wave of tears spring to his eyes. “I don’t wanna say goodbye.”

“Hey, hey!” Virgil tipped his chin up, and Roman met his soft, bright, mismatched eyes and sniffled. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s just see you later. Maybe we could be pen pals or something. Not to mention the fact that we’d probably have to move to keep you from visiting out cafe, especially once you get your license.”

Roman giggled wetly, leaning his head against Virgil’s hand. “Yeah. You make really, really good hot chocolate. I’d really wanna come back for that, if nothing else.”

Virgil flashed him a lopsided grin. “See? It’s all good.” He paused, and Roman saw emotion flicker across his face, too quickly for him to identify. “You have my word, Roman. We’ll meet again, I promise.”

Roman’s heart fluttered at the intensity that Virgil spoke with. He felt, deep in his gut, that Virgil fully intended to keep that promise, come hell or high water. That made the idea of being sent home a little more bearable. “… Okay,” He said softly.

Virgil kissed his forehead. “Come on, we still gotta finish folding clothes. If we finish soon enough, we might be able to make a batch of cookies before Logan picks you up.”

Roman nodded and picked up one of the shirts Virgil had picked out, a black and white tee with a Maleficent design on it. “Okay, then. Can we make chocolate chip ones?” He asked shyly.

Virgil grinned. “Whatever you wanna make, bud.”

When Patton got home an hour later, he crept into the apartment, not sure what he would find. The lights were on in the living room, though he couldn’t see any sign of Virgil or Roman.

A sudden burst of giggles from the kitchen clued him in, and he followed the noise to see Virgil with his arms around a squealing Roman, ruthlessly tickling the small boy. Roman squirmed away from him as he spotted Patton. “You’re back!” He grinned. “Virgil and me made cookies! Do you want some?”

Patton beamed, sitting down at the table as Roman zipped over to him and pulling him into his arms. “I’d love some, sweetheart! Thank you very much,” He replied cheerfully.

Virgil grabbed a plate from the counter, offering it to Patton so that he could have his pick. Patton carefully selected two cookies, taking a bite of one and almost moaning at how the chocolate chips melted in his mouth. “ _Gosh_ , these are good!”

Virgil grinned impishly. “Yeah, I might’ve took a peek in Abuelita’s cookbook. Figured it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

Patton paused. “… Sneaky,” He chided half-heartedly as Roman settled . “You know that book is for my eyes only.”

Virgil pecked him on the cheek. “Okay, but you got free cookies out of it. Are you _really_ that mad?”

“Nah,” Patton said breezily before taking another bite. “You guys did a really good job!”

Virgil sat in the chair next to them. “Glad to hear. I’ve always aspired to cook as well as Abuelita,” He said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.

Patton giggled. “It only took you seventeen years,” He teased.

“Hey, Patton?” Roman piped up. “What’s your Abuelita like? You guys talk about her a lot.”

“Oh! She’s great!” Patton perked up. “She pretty much raised me, after my parents were gone. She’s really sweet, and she cooks the most _delicious_ food, and she taught me how to cook and how to knit, and she helped me with my schoolwork wherever she could, and she taught me all about how important it is to remember history and culture, no matter where you go!”

“She was also 4’9” of terrifying when she got mad,” Virgil quipped with a grin. “Remember the time we got caught kissing behind the school and the principal got all pissy about it, just ‘cause it was _us?_ She came down to the school and ripped him a new one.”

Patton burst out laughing at the memory of his tiny Abuelita shouting down the large, bearded principal of their high school. “Oh, heck, that’s right!” He giggled. “And then she spent the whole car ride home lecturing us about consent and being safe and appropriate behaviour.”

“Longest thirty minutes of my life,” Virgil shook his head. “Almost as bad as when I told her I wanted to pop the question and she fussed over me til you got home from work and overheard her talking. Really ruined the surprise element of that.”

“Aw, it was still lovely!” Patton cooed. “Besides, she made it up to us by helping out with the wedding. I reckon that we would’ve been completely without flowers if she hadn’t driven up to that florist near Uncle Ed’s farm.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed with a laugh. “I still dunno how she managed to make it there and back without a speeding ticket or six.”

Patton opened his mouth to respond, but a knock on the front door interrupted him. Roman’s hands immediately clutched fistfuls of his sweater, clinging to him tightly. Patton and Virgil exchanged a look before Virgil got to his feet, brushing flour off of his shirt before going to answer the door.

“Do I really have to go?” Roman whispered, his voice trembling.

Patton’s heart ached terribly. He wanted nothing more than to slam the door in Logan’s face, and hold Roman tightly and never let go. He wanted to make more cookies and watch movies and listen to Roman’s sweet laughter forever. But they couldn’t.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” He said softly, pressing a kiss into Roman’s hair and rubbing his back. “You do. I’m sorry.”

“Virgil… Virgil said I’d see you guys again. He-he promised. Is that true?” Roman looked up at him, his eyes wide and shining with tears.

A lump rose in Patton’s throat, and he tried to ignore the way his heart thudded. “If Virgil promised, then I just know we will, honey,” Patton answered. “He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.”

“… Okay,” Roman nodded and cuddled back up to Patton, squeezing his arms around him tightly.

Patton returned the hug, resting his chin on top of Roman’s head as Virgil and Logan appeared in the doorway, Virgil holding Roman’s old backpack and a couple of supermarket bags with the rest of his things. “Hey, bud, it’s time to go,” He said, his voice low and gentle.

Roman sniffled. “Okay,” He slowly peeled himself out of Patton’s arms, and _god_ , everything in Patton wanted to kick and scream and take him back. It was like watching a piece of his heart get ripped out of his chest.

Logan extended a hand to Roman, who took hold of it limply. “I’ll talk to you two later,” He nodded. “Thank you.”

Patton tried not to glare at Logan. He was just doing his job, what they’d heard about a hundred times, helping children in need find a stable environment, but it felt like a punch to the gut to hear that they weren’t _good enough_ to be that for this boy that he loved so much. How could he not take it personally when his (almost) friend didn’t trust them enough to even let Roman stay with them while CPS investigated his parents.

Sure, their apartment was a little small, but there was plenty of space and light, and windows cracked open during the day to let in breezes of fresh air. They had clothes and a room and a bed and money- not a _lot_ , sure, but _enough_ \- and love to support Roman.

Not just any child. Roman. Patton tried to force down the lump in his throat as he mulled over that. Even if they adopted a child sometime later, he knew he’d always want Roman, would always miss him. He was _theirs_ , damn it. And it hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt in his life.

Virgil held out the backpack to Roman, who slipped it on without a word, and handed over the other bags to Logan. He ruffled Roman’s hair. “Hey, remember. Not goodbye. Just… see you later.”

“See you later,” Roman repeated mechanically, his voice thick with tears.

“Let’s go, Roman. We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us. Maybe we can get something to eat on the way there.” Logan at least _tried_ to sound warm, bless his heart, but Patton still wanted to knock his teeth in right now.

And then, far too quickly, they were gone, the front door clacking shut behind them.

Everything bubbled up inside of Patton, raw and ugly and painful, and he burst into tears. His shoulders shook violently as he curled in on himself, as if trying to protect his wounded heart. Distantly, he felt Virgil’s arms around him, pulling him up into his lap- when had he ended up on the floor?- and cradling him close.

“Virgil, wh-what do we do?” Patton buried his face in his husband’s neck. “I don’t want to lose him, I _can’t_ , I can’t live with that, I don’t _want_ to!”

“Shh, shhhh.” Virgil murmured, his hands tracing patterns over Patton’s back and shoulders. “It’s okay, _corazón_. I promise you, it’ll all be alright.”

“How do you _know_ that?” Patton sobbed, shaking his head. “You can’t _make_ that promise!”

“Because it has to be,” Virgil said softly, pressing kisses to the top of Patton’s head. “Because it has to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	12. Return To Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When I go away from you the world beats dead like a slackened drum."
> 
> -Amy Lowell

Roman wanted to cry again as soon as Logan turned onto his street. This had to be a nightmare. He’d open his eyes and Patton would be there, and he could crawl into his arms and Patton would sing softly as he stroked his hair. Virgil would appear next to them with a glass of water and crack jokes to make Roman smile. Everything would be okay.

Unfortunately, the car pulled to a stop outside of his house, and he was forced to face reality as Logan gently urged him out of the car. The pair of them walked silently up the cracked concrete path towards the front door.

Logan reached for the doorbell, but Roman shook his head. “It doesn’t work,” He explained. “It hasn’t ever since Dad hit it with a wrench when he was working out in the front yard when I was little.”

“I see.” Logan nodded and instead rapped lightly on the door.

They stood there for a few seconds before footsteps thumped on the other side of the door, followed by locks clicking open, and the door creaked open. Roman’s heart thumped in his chest as his father poked his head suspiciously around the door and met Logan’s eyes. “What?” He grumbled.

Logan cleared his throat. “Hello, sir. My name is Logan Kennard. May I ask yours?”

“Max Gorgon. Whaddaya want?” Dad said gruffly.

Logan didn’t miss a beat. “I work with Child Protective Services,” He announced firmly. “We found your son on the streets in the city. Care to explain how he may have got there?”

At that, Roman’s head shot up. “Hey, I wasn’t on the-!” He started to argue, but Logan put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He snapped his mouth shut, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

Why didn’t he want to mention Virgil and Patton?

“Hell! We’ve been trying to figure out where he’d got to!” Dad finally looked down as Roman spoke. “Thought he’d nicked off with his aunt or somethin’.”

Roman tried not to shudder at the thought of Aunt Nikki. She was loud, but not in a fun way like Patton. She yelled about everything, and she always smelled sickly sweet, like you were drowning in maraschino cherries. Her nails were always long and sharp, digging into Roman’s arm as he went past to catch him and send him off on some errand she couldn’t be bothered fulfilling herself.

“No.” Logan’s mouth was a thin line, and Roman wondered briefly if he disliked Dad as much as Roman did. “He was lost on the streets until I found him.”

“Well, shit! Bri! Brianne! Come here!” Roman flinched a little as Dad turned and hollered over his shoulder. “Roman’s come home!”

There was a flurry of movement before the door was thrown open and Mom appeared in the doorway. She gasped and dropped to her knees, yanking Roman into a tight embrace that almost choked him. “My _baby!_ Oh, darling, you’re _back!_ Where were you, my sweet? I’ve been worried _sick_ about you, but your daddy said you’d be home soon, and- oh, my goodness! I’m so _happy_ to see you!”

Roman forced a smile onto his face. “I-I’m sorry, Mom,” He whispered in her ear. It was bittersweet, the attention she was showering on him, but he wanted it to last nonetheless. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Technically, not a lie.

“Oh, sweetheart, I forgive you!” Mom crooned, her brightly coloured fake nails gently scratching the base of his neck as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s all okay now, you’re home safe and sound!”

She looked up to Logan, flashing him a sweet smile. “How can I ever thank you for this, mister?” She asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Oh, no thanks necessary. Just doing my job,” Logan replied gently.

Roman twisted to look at him, biting back a groan at the soft expression on his face. He’d clearly fallen hook, line, and sinker for the saccharine words that fell from his mother’s mouth as easily as the lies and abuse she snapped at other times. He ached to point it out, to scream that it was all an act, to beg Logan to take him back, it didn’t even have to be Patton and Virgil, just anywhere, please, _anywhere but here!_

… But what would be the point? Logan would probably just shrug it off as Roman throwing a hissy fit about being caught and sent home, and then he’d have to deal with the consequences from his parents. He let out a soft, resigned sigh, sagging against Mom. Better to just live with it, for now at least. Maybe he’d have another chance to get away someday.

As if reading his mind, Logan added, “I’ll be back in a few days to check up on you all and see how Roman is settling back in. It’s school holidays at the moment, so he should have plenty of time at home to get back into the swing of things.”

“Thank you so much, Mr Kennard,” Dad reached over and shook Logan’s hand. “We should get inside, it’s pretty chilly out here, and we wouldn’t want to get sick.” He laughed, a short, rough, barking sound that made Roman want to cover his ears.

Logan bobbed down to Roman, smiling at him warmly. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” He said, touching Roman’s shoulder lightly.

No. Not okay. Not even a little okay. Everything in Roman was screaming to rip away, to go anywhere but here, to be anywhere, to run or fly or fall or die, just so long as it got him away.

“Okay,” He heard himself say. “Bye, Logan.”

Logan stood, straightened his jacket, and winked at Roman as he said, “See you later.”

Roman blinked, but before he could speak, Logan was in his car and zipping away. He felt large hands grab him by the arm and tug him inside before the door slammed closed, officially trapping him back in the creaky old house.

He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as his father lumbered back into the living room, the TV flashing with the bright colours of some mind-numbing action movie. It was as cold as ever in here, the heating system haven broken years ago and never been fixed. He crept into the kitchen to see Mom making coffee, staring intently at the small, stained mug as she stirred its contents.

“… Hi,” He said softly from the doorway. He figured he had a fifty-fifty chance of her mood either being fantastic, or abysmal. Worth a shot, more so than Dad at least.

She glanced up at him, brightening as she saw him. “Hey, baby! Did you want a drink, too?” She offered the mug to him.

Roman tried not to grimace. Coffee always made him feel sick and hot, but it was the only hot drink Mom ever made. “Um, no, thank you,” He replied. “I just… I was curious what you were up to.”

Mom shrugged, leaning back against the counter and drinking from the mug in her hand. “Nothing, really. Tryna decide what to get for dinner. You have any bright ideas, sweetheart?”

“Not really.” All he wanted was a pot of Virgil’s spaghetti. Hot and cheesy, with thick noodles and meatballs speckled with herbs and spices. Rich sauce with real tomatoes that Virgil cut and cooked down, with spinach stirred into the pot.

Mom shrugged again. “I’ll ask your daddy later, he sounds like he’s busy.”

As if on cue, a loud explosion rang out from the TV and Dad cursed loudly, shouting curses at the movie’s characters. Oh, well, Roman thought. As long as he was yelling at the TV and not him, that was a win.

Roman left the kitchen as Mom rustled around in the drawer under the microwave. He knew what she was looking for, and he didn’t want to watch. Needles always made him feel itchy and sick and jumpy, especially seeing them disappear into her arms.

He slipped upstairs, carrying his bags with him, and into his room. He softly closed the door, wincing as it creaked quietly, then sat on his bed and peered out the grimy window at the street below. It was snowing again. Patton and Virgil would probably be getting rugged up and going out to the park to build a snowman, or make snow angels, or throw snowballs at each other.

It ached to think about, like a cold, sharp icicle driving into his chest. He shivered again, then grabbed the worn out blanket draped across his bed, still tangled from where he had last thrown it, and wrapped it around his shoulders. The warmth it offered was meager at best, but it was better than nothing.

Roman covered his face with the blanket as the frustration and grief of the afternoon rose inside him, burning and solid and heavy as a rock, and burst into tears for the fifth time that day. It just wasn’t _fair!_ He’d finally had it. Something warm and real and comforting and safe and wonderful. Jokes and hugs and kisses and soft pillows and _love._ So much love.

He pulled the blanket away from his face to breath, short gasps of frigid air that felt like swallowing razor blades. Every breath he took, every second that ticked past, weighed on him, heavier than anything he’d ever felt in his life. Every moment carried him further away from the only place he’d truly felt happy in his whole life.

He reached down into his backpack, pulling out the small stuffed monkey, and hugged it tightly. It still smelled like Patton and Virgil’s apartment, like cinnamon and sugar and fresh laundry. He pressed it to his cheek and closed his eyes.

It was almost like he was back in the cafe, just for a moment. He could feel the warmth of the heating system, hear the twinkling notes of the piano music drifting through the speakers, could see customers wandering through the shelves. A small smile tugged at his lips as he relaxed, burrowing his face into the monkey’s soft stomach. Maybe everything would be okay.

A door slammed downstairs, making him jump, and the vision was gone. He bit back a frustrated scream as Dad’s voice boomed from the living room, arguing furiously with one of his friends. He faintly heard a shattering noise, and Mom shrieked angrily. He couldn’t make out what she was saying through all the voices, but he guessed Dad had probably thrown something.

Roman sighed, flopping back on his bed and staring up at the cracked ceiling. His eyes traced over the familiar stains and marks, picking out shapes against the old, yellowed plaster. Back to real life, he told himself. Everything he’d been counting on in the past few weeks, it was just a dream. Every hope and feeling. All of the love and trust and happiness was just… done. Gone. And he was left. Alone again, cold and anxious and tired and trapped.

He rolled onto his side and curled up, cuddling the monkey to his chest. He should have known it wouldn’t last, he thought bitterly. Nothing good ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	13. Stormy Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. ”
> 
> ― Ian McEwan

The next few days passed in a noisy haze of yelling, slammed doors, and too-loud TV shows. Roman spent most of his time in either his room, lying on his bed and letting his mind drift to faraway places, or out the backyard, climbing the old oak tree and watching birds fly over the tops of houses. Sometimes, when the wind blew hard, hard enough to shake the smaller branches of the tree, it felt like he could fly, too, if he just opened his arms and stepped out of the tree.

He’d always wanted to fly. It was part of the reason he did love Peter Pan quite so much. It would be so magical, wouldn’t it, to just spread his arms out, think happy thoughts, and soar up into the sky? To trail his hand through the clouds, to follow the sunset and fly somewhere. Somewhere new and exciting, where the rules of real life didn’t follow, where the sun was always shining and rivers ran crystal clear, where people smiled and sang songs, where flowers swayed in the gentle breeze and forests were full of friendly creatures.

Thoughts like that helped pass the hours that dragged by until Dad finally fell asleep on the couch. He’d usually knock out sometimes after 3am, and wake up at midday. It was a welcome reprieve from the usual noise and chaos, but Roman found himself unable to sleep. He would lie in bed, curled up under the fluffy grey blanket that Virgil had given him, arms tightly wound around the monkey- since named Arwen- and plan out elaborate fantasies.

Exploring hidden temples, wandering through magical forests, climbing ancient mountains that reached up into the heavens, he travelled the world in his mind’s eye. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he had company. Sometimes other kids, friends who he led bravely into the shadows for them to claim a shining prize or battle some great evil. Sometimes a group of knights, pledged to follow his every command, who defended from all who struck against him.

And sometimes, it was Virgil and Patton. Virgil would scale trees and scan for danger, swinging down from the thick, strong branches, and landing with a satisfying _crunch_ on the leaves scattering the forest floor. Patton would hold his hand and help him climb over large tree roots and rocks, his bright laughter spilling through the trees like sunshine. They would pick their way through the forest, searching for a spot to sit down. And then, just as their legs began to tire and their feet started to hurt, there it would be.

A clearing, ringed perfectly by rustling green trees, carpeted with lush grass and bright, sweet-smelling flowers. The stream that cut through the woods rushed nearby, just through the trees on the other side of the clearing, cool and inviting. The three of them would sit down, and Patton would pull containers of sandwiches and bottles of water from his bag, and they would eat and talk and relax together in the warm, golden sunlight. Virgil would tease Roman about going for a dip in the cold water, and Patton would laugh as the two of them raced to the bank and dived in to see who could make the bigger splash.

Roman’s stomach growled as he imagined the soft bread and creamy egg salad of the sandwiches, bringing his attention back to the real world. He grimaced as he sat up, feeling a little light-headed. Mom had been away since the first night he’d gotten home- working, Dad had grunted when Roman had dared to ask him- and, as a result, he hadn’t eaten anything but the half-dozen cookies Virgil had packed for him from the batch they’d made together that afternoon.

He tucked Arwen under his arm and tugged his hoodie around his shoulders, then carefully made his way downstairs. It was late, but the TV was still on, meaning Dad was probably still awake. Roman held his breath as he crept past the living room, trying to make himself as silent as possible.

He made it to the kitchen undisturbed and set Arwen carefully in a clear spot on the counter, her large head listing to the side a little, then began looking through the cupboards to find something to eat. Most of them were jammed full of cracked crockery and broken appliances, and he didn’t bother opening those.

He found a packet of pop tarts in the back of the cupboard above the sink. He carefully climbed down off of the chair he’d dragged over from the table to look in the overhead cabinets and showed off his find to Arwen. Her wide stitched smile mirrored his own grin as he set them on the counter next to her, then turned to paw through another cupboard to find the toaster.

Roman eventually dug it out and plugged it in next to Arwen, shoving dirty cups and plates into the sink to make room for it. He carefully dropped two of the pastries into the toaster and pulled down the lever, then sat down on the chair. He swung his legs back and forth as he looked around the kitchen.

It was as cluttered as ever, broken and dirty dishes and electronic components littered across every available surface. The walls were covered with ripped, stained wallpaper, handprints and food splatters almost completely obscuring the faded floral pattern beneath. The tiles were cracked and uneven, some completely missing by the back door. Roman suddenly noticed the new extra locks on the back door, and his roaring stomach dropped down into his knees. So, they _had_ noticed how he’d gotten out.

It had been a windy night. The house had creaked alarmingly as Mom and Dad screamed at each other. She’d been high off her head on some new batch he’d gotten from one of his friends, and he was screaming at her for cutting into his supply. Roman had sat on his bed, tears in his eyes, a pillow over his head, and something in him had just…

Snapped.

He’d gone downstairs one he was sure Dad was asleep. Mom had already left at the end of their argument, slamming the front door shut hard enough to shake Roman’s schoolbook off of his bedside. He took as much money as he could shove in his pockets from the jar Mom kept on top of the fridge, grabbed his backpack, and slipped down the hallway to the front door. It had been locked, and he hissed softly in frustration. Dad kept his keys in his pocket, and Roman certainly didn’t dare go into the living room, let alone try to pickpocket him.

Instead, he went back to the kitchen, carefully unlatching the creaky back door, and snuck out into the night. It didn’t take long for him to clamber over the back fence, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he was running. As fast as he could, down the laneway, and to the bus station on the other side of the river. The bus ticket took almost half the money he had, but the dead-eyed teenager in the booth hadn’t questioned him. The bus was big, and the seats were soft, and he was asleep within minutes.

A bump in the road jolted him awake a few hours later, and he’d sat up to see bright lights twinkling along the streets, almost blinding him. He blinked a few times and squinted past them, shielding his eyes, and saw on the GPS display above the aisle that they were in the city, miles and miles and miles west of his hometown. _Perfect._

The first night had been scary, but being in the city was oddly comforting after a few days. Anywhere you went on the streets, there were people, playing guitars and walking dogs and talking on phones and drinking coffee and jogging. It was noisy, but not in the same way as home. Home was angry and frightening and chaotic, this was… alive. Alive in a sense Roman had only seen in movies and books. It was beautiful.

A sudden shrieking beep yanked him from his thoughts, and he leaped to his feet. What was- the fire alarm. The fire alarm? He spun around and screamed as he saw bright orange leaping from the toaster, licking up Arwen’s arm. He snatched her from the counter and batted her smoking fur against the tile, trying to beat out the flames.

Footsteps thundered from the living room, and Roman barely had time to shove Arwen into his jacket before Dad crashed into the kitchen with a towel. He shoved Roman aside and unplugged the toasted before throwing the towel over it to smother the flames.

Roman stumbled and fell against the wall, curling up into a ball. He gritted his teeth as Dad cursed loudly. He was mad. Roman hated it when Dad was mad, more so when he was mad at _him_.

He felt a hand on his shoulder pull him to his feet, and he hesitantly looked up to see Dad scowling at him. “What the _hell_ were you doing?!” He barked, his face bright red. “Since _when_ do you just plug things in without asking?!”

“I… I didn’t know it was broken,” Roman mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor again. “I’m sorry.”

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “You’re grounded til your fucking Mom gets home. I’ll sort it out with her then.”

A bitter taste rose in the back of his throat, acidic and angry. “What does it matter, anyway? It’s not like you ever let me do anything fun.” He froze as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t actually intended to say them aloud, but they seemed to speak themselves into the thick, smoky air.

There was silence for a beat before Dad growled. “If you’re gonna be a little smartass, you can go down in the basement where I don’t have to hear your bitching.”

Roman’s heart seemed to stutter in his chest, and he jerked away. “No! I don’t want to! It’s dark down there, and I got sick last time!” He clapped a hand over his mouth. Shut up, shut up, shut up, he begged himself. You’re just making it worse!

His feet barely touched the ground as Dad stormed over to the basement door, dragging him along by the hoodie. Roman suddenly remembered Arwen, wrapping his arms around himself so she wasn’t jostled out of his jacket.

Dad opened the door and released his hoodie, glaring at him. “Now.”

Roman shuffled down the stairs, swallowing back tears as he looked around at the cramped, dingy space. Boxes were stacked along the walls, and a ratty couch was dumped in the middle of the room. The cushions were thin and worn, and Roman knew from experience that the wooden frame of the couch dug into anyone unfortunate enough to sit or lie on it.

He jumped as the door slammed shut behind him. He hated it down here, hated it more than anything else in the world. He’d rather be sleeping in the park than be shut up in here. It was dark, and cold, and it smelled like dust and mould and moth balls and old paper.

He pulled Arwen out of his jacket, cuddling her close. “At least I have you,” He mumbled. He buried his face against her stomach again, breathing in the comforting smell that still lingered in her fluffy fur.

He screwed his eyes shut. There had to be something for him to do to escape this nightmare. Think about something else, somewhere else. Anything to get away from here. A cave sprung to life in his mind’s eye. Water dripped from stalactites on the roof, and he shivered, climbing to his feet and wandering through the twisting passages.

He spent what felt like hours exploring the imaginary cave system, climbing and shuffling through the dark, before sunlight nearly blinded him. He emerged out of the mouth of the cave and blinked until his eyes adjusted. A valley was spread out below him, with a wide river cutting through the middle, curving around the bend of the landscape and disappearing from view. Trees blossoming with flowers of every shape and colour carpeted the valley, some bearing large, shiny, colourful fruit.

He wandered through the valley, taking in the sights and smells and sounds. He dipped his feet in the river, watching fish dance through the water, skillfully dodging rocks and currents. He walked through the woods, watching squirrels and rabbits scamper through the undergrowth and duck into tiny hiding places beneath rocks and roots. He climbed trees, watching birds soar through the air, twisting and wheeling up into the sky.

The sun set on the valley, painting it with brilliant reds and golds. The moon rose, bringing stars- brighter than any he’d ever seen, constellations that Virgil had showed him recognizable in the deep black of the night sky. The sun returned, and Roman sat on a patch of grass and watched it cross the blue sky. Sun. Moon. Sun. Moon. The pattern was soothing, a constant as the valley shifted around him, leaves turning crimson and falling from trees, snowflakes fluttering past his face and tickling his nose, flowers blooming between his fingers as he leaned back, warm breezes drifting past him as the sun shone down.

A loud growl from the cave made Roman freeze. The rabbits ducking through the grass nearby scampered off and vanished into the trees. He slowly turned around, looking up the hillside to the mouth of the cave. The valley was deathly still around him, the moon hanging static in the sky. He took a deep breath and got to his feet, then began to climb up the hill.

The creature, whatever it was, growled again as he approached the cave. He stared into the inky blackness, his eyes straining to scan the shadows. “I’m not scared of you,” He whispered aloud. “I can do anything I want to do.”

A sudden wind picked up at his back, a high-pitched howl that made his head throb. He looked over his shoulder to see trees shuddering, smaller plants were ripped out of the ground by the sudden gale. He realised with a sinking sense of horror that the stars were going out, one by one, their comforting, twinkling lights vanishing into thin air.

Please. Please, no. Not here, too.

“I’m not scared of you!” He repeated, his voice hoarse. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were stinging from the wind or tears. “ _I’m not!_ ”

“.. oman?”

He spun around, eyes flickering frantically over his surroundings, searching for the voice. It almost sounded like Pa-

No. No, if he thought it, then it would be, and he couldn’t stand to see _him_ caught in this maelstrom. Not here in this screaming chaos of wind and rain and fear and panic.

“ _Roman?_ ” The voice was more panicked now, and he dropped to his knees as he screwed his eyes shut and clapped his hands over his ears. Loud thuds echoed through the valley as trees, tall as skyscrapers, crashed to the ground, tipped by the wind.

The growling was deafening now, and the ground was cold and dark and hard and rough. Everything ached. He bit back a sob as pain shot through his head, sharp as a knife. He curled up into a ball, his arms clamped tight around Arwen.

“ _Roman?!_ ”

He struggled to lift his head at last, peering into deep black shadows. It lasted only a moment before the world burst into a dazzling white light, hot and blinding and brighter than anything. He cried out, raising a hand to shield his eyes and squinting out at the world.

And then everything stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	14. A Rescue Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”
> 
> — Frederick Douglass

Logan sighed as he pulled up outside the Gorgon residence. His digging into their history had been… less fruitful than he’d hoped. Aside from the occasional drug charge from when they were younger- before Roman was born- there was absolutely nothing to go off of. Nothing to prove that Roman shouldn’t live with them, other than the boy’s reluctance to return.

Patton had clung to Virgil when he’d spoken to them in the kitchen of the cafe. Virgil had been silent for the most part, letting Patton explain the sequence of events that had led them to take in Roman. The two of them had apologised for not speaking up, but Logan had been forced to report the situation anyway. Thankfully, the pair had merely gotten a warning for not coming forward with information.

Between what Patton had told him, Roman’s attitude towards going home, and his parent’s reaction to his reappearance, Logan knew something was off.

He killed the car’s engine and plucked the plastic folder with Roman’s name off of the passenger seat before heading to the door. It took a while before Max opened it, his dark eyes squinting in the sunlight.

“Oh. It’s _you_ ,” He said gruffly. Logan fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at the stale scent of beer on the man’s breath.

“It is indeed,” He responded. “I’m here for the welfare check I mentioned when I dropped Roman off last week?”

Max stared blankly at him for a moment, and Logan felt a sharp spike of irritation at the man’s apparent disregard for Roman’s wellbeing. “Oh. Yeah. Come on in, I guess.” He stepped aside, holding open the door.

“Thank you.” Logan slipped past him into the house and his eyes widened.

The walls were dirty and stained, marks splashed over the wide cracks that crawled up the old plaster. The carpet in the hallway was halfway ripped up, the remaining threadbare patch at the bottom of the stairs isolated by the old floorboards. Logan subtly sidestepped a few of the more worn-out looking ones as he made his way further into the house.

Each room seemed worse the last. Black grime coated the wooden doorways, most with broken hinges. The living room had a hole at about head height in the plaster, suspiciously fist-sized. The kitchen was so cluttered that he could hardly make out the benches and sink past all of the random piles littering the room. The mirror in the downstairs bathroom was broken, half of the glass just gone from the frame, leaving a large jagged-edged chunk clinging to the top.

Finally he returned his attention to Max, who had already vanished into the living room again. He picked his way past piles of washing and empty bottles and magazines to stand next to Max’s armchair and cleared his throat.

After a moment, Max glanced up at him before returning his gaze to the TV. “Yeah?” He asked.

“Where is Roman? I’d like to speak with him.” Logan asked. He mentally congratulated himself on his level voice.

“Oh, uh…” Max paused, and Logan fought the urge to smack him. “… Oh, right. Basement. Door’s in the kitchen.”

“ _What._ ”

Max finally turned his attention back to Logan, the cold tone seeming to pierce through the man’s apathetic bubble. “Basement,” He repeated, sounding a little uncomfortable.

A siren wailed onscreen, its screaming pitch a match to Logan’s rising temper. “And why, pray tell, is he in the basement? Is his room down there?” Logan stared at him. He felt his hands clench around the folder tucked into his arms in a white-knucled grip.

“He, uh… no. It’s upstairs. He’s in time-out.” Max stumbled over his words, his lazy self-assurance evaporating under Logan’s glare.

“Is the basement heated? Is _any_ part of this home heated?” Logan felt hysteria bubbling up in his throat, and for once, he found he didn’t care what this so-called parent thought of him. “What the _hell_ makes you think these are suitable living conditions for _anyone_ , let _alone_ a vulnerable child that who literally depends on you for their very _survival?!_ ”

“I-uh… well, his mother and I, uh…” Max practically withered back in his chair. “We just… it’s not like we wanted the kid, you know?”

There was nothing that Logan hated more than people who couldn’t even _pretend_ to be good parents. It was obvious that they knew they were terrible at looking after children, and yet, they continued on with the exact same behaviours. He’d seen it a thousand times, neglect and abuse and awful conditions.

Sure, some families had issues related to mental health, or financial difficulty. But many of the one he dealt with just… didn’t care about the children in their care. It made his blood boil.

Logan shook his head at Max before turning away and striding into the kitchen. He twisted the handle of the basement door. He huffed in annoyance as it rattled uselessly. He dimly heard the front door slam shut and scowled.

_Coward._

He rapped on the door. “Roman?” He called out, starting to look for a latch, or a key, anything to help him open the door.

There was no response. Worry began to creep up Logan’s spine. How long had Roman been trapped down there? Was he injured? He couldn’t imagine the boisterous child staying quiet for long.

“ _Roman?_ ” He couldn’t quite keep his voice level. He ran his gaze over the door. It was in as bad disrepair as everything else in the house. Maybe he could…

He muttered an apology aloud before taking a step back and kicking at the door. His foot thudded against it, deafeningly loud.

“ _Roman?!_ ” He shouted. The door groaned weakly underneath the force of the blow. He gritted his teeth, and kicked again, and again. The paint peeled from the dilapidated wood as the battered door splintered inwards.

He squinted into the dark basement. Light spilled down the wide stairs, casting deep shadows in the corners of the room. It was as cluttered as the rest of the house, with boxes and piles of junk scattered in high stacks around the room. He took a few steps down the staircase and almost gagged at the strong smell of mould and dust that permeated the air.

As he slowly made his way into the room, his eyes gradually adjusted. He could pick out the outline of a tattered couch against the wall, and a pool table upended at one end of the room. He scanned the room, holding his breath and listening.

A small, pained sob caught his attention, and he looked over the room once more before his eyes locked on what he had assumed was a pile of blankets. He took the stairs down two at a time, his heart pounding in his ears.

Logan dropped to a crouch beside the small, shivering lump on the floor. “Roman…?” He asked, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t take her away!” Roman wheezed, shaking his head and curling tighter around the small object in his arms. Logan peered at him for a moment before recognizing the red knitted monkey doll that he had clung to the entire drive from Patton and Logan’s apartment.

“I’m not going to, it’s okay,” Logan reassured him softly. “Nobody is going to take her from you.”

Roman took a deep, shuddering breath and finally raised his head. Logan’s heart broke at the dark purple bags under his eyes, his pale face, the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “I… what…?” He breathed, his voice croaky, unfocused eyes blinking rapidly.

Logan had brought him back here. Despite his instincts screaming otherwise. He’d ignored them, and Roman, and Roman had been hurt in the process. It was his fault Roman was in this state.

He gently slid his arms under Roman, carefully lifting him up, and held him close to his chest as he slowly got to his feet. “You’re safe, Roman. I promise.” He murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Roman squinted, his head lolling to the side. He was clearly exhausted. Logan wondered how long he’d been trapped in the dark. How long it had been since he’d slept or eaten. “… Logan?” He mumbled.

Logan offered him the softest smile he could manage as he started to climb the stairs back up to the kitchen. “Yeah, Ro. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

He was going to make _sure_ of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	15. New Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”
> 
> ― William Faulkner

The next couple of days were a blur. Roman remembered bits and pieces, but it was so hard to focus. Logan was almost always by his side. He remembered Logan offering him food, which he took, and clothes, which he didn’t. He was terrified of losing his jacket in one of the large grey buildings Logan led him in and out of. People talked at him all the time, long words, words he didn’t recognise, and Logan would help explain to him what they meant.

Something he _did_ remember quite clearly during those days was one afternoon, when he sat outside an office while Logan spoke with a dark skinned woman with fluffy, long brown hair. She wore a green dress, much more casual than most of the other workers, and teased Logan with a playful grin. Roman really wanted to play with her hair, but she’d laughed and ruffled his hair and told him maybe later. She seemed nice.

Another worker had come over to him and started asking questions. Roman was so _tired_ , and he didn’t know this man, and when he had refused to answer, the man had started to scold him. The exhaustion of the past few days bubbled over, and he’d burst into tears. Before he’d known what was happening, the man had been backing away, and Logan’s arms were wrapped around him. He’d clung to Logan, sniffling, and mumbled apologies.

“It’s more than alright, Roman. You’re doing absolutely _wonderfully_ , and I’m so proud of you,” He’d murmured. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I’m sorry.”

Roman decided that Logan might not be so bad, after all, during those days.

One morning, when he was already awake but still lying in bed in Logan’s spare room and cuddling Arwen, Logan knocked on the door and poked his head in. “Well, today’s the day, Roman,” He announced in a dull voice. “When all the _fun_ begins.”

“That is… the _least_ enthusiastic tone I’ve ever heard in my life.” Roman replied as he sat up. “What are we doing? More interviews?”

“I wish.” Logan sighed. He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, then continued. “We have to go to court today. We need to sort out the details of what happened with your parents, and where you go from here.”

Roman stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s a strong possibility you’ll be placed into the foster care system, for one,” Logan chewed on his bottom lip. “Although…”

“Although?”

Logan cleared his throat. “There has been someone who has put up their hand- or _hands_ , rather- to apply for a guardianship order.”

“What does that mean?” Roman asked, bewildered.

“It means that, if they pass the necessary checks, and you want, they can become your legal guardians.” Logan explained.

Roman’s heart skipped a beat. “Who?” He asked. He hated the note of desperate hope in his voice, but he knew that Logan already knew what he was thinking when the man chuckled.

“A certain baker and his barista.”

“ _Yes!_ ” Roman bounded off of the bed, landing on his feet on the smooth floorboards and already heading for the door.

“Hey, hang on!” Logan called after him, stifling a laugh. “What about breakfast? Getting dressed? And poor Arwen, left abandoned on the pillow without even a goodbye?”

Roman paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder sheepishly. “… Oh, right,” He flashed Logan an embarrassed smile.

Not long after- but certainly not soon enough, in Roman’s opinion- they were walking into another large building. Roman didn’t recognise this one. They rode the elevator up several floors and walked out into a large hallway with wood panelling along the walls. Large glass windows showed off the streets below, and sunlight beamed in. Seats were bolted to the floor in uniform rows along one side of the hallway, and several doors were set into the other wall.

Logan guided Roman into an alcove and talked quickly with the woman behind the desk. She nodded, gave him some paperwork to sign, and went back to typing on the keyboard in front of her as they spoke.

Roman didn’t pay much attention to their conversation. Instead, he stepped back out of the alcove and looked around the room again, this time focused on the people milling around the hall. People sat clustered together, parents and children and siblings in groups. Some nursed paper cups of tea and coffee, others talked amongst their group, and some just stared off into space. Roman felt bad for those people. He recognised all too well the hollow exhaustion that seemed to drip from them.

“Hey, there, kiddo!” A voice behind him greeted cheerfully.

He jumped slightly and turned to find himself nose-to-nose with a man bobbed down in front of him. “Oh!” Roman took a step back in surprise, bumping into Logan.

Logan put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Roman. This is Emile. He’s here to help you out today,” He explained, and Roman didn’t miss the note of amusement in his voice.

“Sorry for spooking ya, Ro,” Emile apologised. He stood, and Roman peered up at him. He wore a tan suit with a pale pink tie, and chunky glasses. His smile reminded Roman of Patton, and he relaxed a little.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Roman replied. “So… what are we doing?”

Emile offered a hand to him and, after an encouraging nod from Logan, Roman took it. “See, I’m a lawyer, kiddo. My job is to talk to other lawyers and a judge to work out a solution for situations where people need some help.”

“Oh.” That made sense, Roman thought to himself as Emile led him into one of the smaller doors. It was a small room, with a table and a few chairs. “So, if you’re my lawyer, who else has a lawyer?”

Emile sat down and gestured for Roman to do the same, then pulled out a notepad. “Well, your parents have a lawyer. Not sure who, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. It might be Melissa. Melissa is nice.” He tapped his pencil against his chin.

“Okay,” Roman nodded. His stomach turned at the idea of having to see his parents again. He _really_ hoped he could just stay with Emile and Logan.

Emile seemed to sense his discomfort and reached out to squeeze his hand. “I think Duck’s here, too,” He added. “He’s going up to bat for the Sanders.”

Roman perked up at that. “Patton and Virgil are here?” He asked, a little louder than he intended, then blushed.

Emile beamed. “They sure are, kiddo!” He paused, picking up his pencil again and resting the tip of it against his notepad, which Roman now noticed was covered in a print of cartoony gemstones. It was pretty. He made a mental note to ask Emile where he’d gotten it later. “So… what do you want to happen today?” He asked, his voice a little more serious now.

Roman was quiet for a moment. “I don’t…” He started before trailing off. “I want to… I don’t want to go back home.”

“From what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t, either, buddy.” Emile offered him a sympathetic smile. “Where do you want to go?”

Roman fiddled with Arwen’s arms, his gaze dropping to the table. “I… are Mom and Dad gonna go to jail?” He asked.

Emile frowned a little. “Well… they haven’t technically broken laws, not that we’re able to address here, anyway. But it’s pretty obvious to me that they can’t take care of you, and that you aren’t happy living with them.”

“Oh.” Roman felt like he was saying that a lot today. He didn’t know what else to respond with, not with all of these confusing thoughts running through his head. He didn’t want to go home, but he did love them- at least, he was pretty sure he did- and thinking about it all made his head hurt.

Emile cleared his throat and shifted in his chair slightly. The fake leather squeaked quietly, and Roman wondered how many people had sat in this room, with similar situations. Situations that seemed impossible to _think about_ , let alone fix.

“The Sanders are applying for a guardianship order. Do you know what that means, Ro?” He asked.

“It means, like… they want to adopt me, right?” Roman replied slowly, remembering the conversation he had with Logan that morning. “And… I’d go live with them? Permanently?”

Emile nodded. “If you want to, yeah.” He scribbled something down on the notepad before looking up at Roman again. “… Do you want to go with them?” His voice was soft, and Roman’s heart squeezed tight in his chest.

Everything he wanted. It was right there, within reach, for real this time. Shiny and warm and soft and sweet. Scones and hot chocolate and blanket forts and storybooks. Jokes and bubble baths and movies and spaghetti. Hugs and kisses and Patton and Virgil.

Roman reflected for a moment on the past couple of months. It had been cold, and difficult, and sometimes it hurt, so much, but he didn’t regret a moment of it. Not if it had bought him here.

He blinked back the tears that pricked at his eyes and finally looked back up to Emile, meeting the lawyer’s gaze, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do,” He whispered.

Emile smiled. “I think we can make that work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	16. Love and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It's amazing how a little tomorrow can make up for a whole lot of yesterday.”
> 
> ― John Guare

Patton watched as Virgil paced back and forth in front of him. Tension rolled off of him in waves, and Patton was reminded of a tiger stalking the length of its enclosure at a zoo. The flimsy paper cup of coffee Duck had offered him sat abandoned at the base of his seat, quickly growing cold.

“I can’t believe this. Why do we have to jump through all of these hoops?” Virgil ranted. His hands were shoved in the deep pockets of his jacket, but Patton could picture them; tight fists, white-knuckled, practically shaking with irritation and anxiety. “You heard what Logan said about his parent’s house! It’s fucking _trashed!_ There’s no way a kid should be living there. It should be a cut-and-dry thing, right?!”

“I know,” Patton agreed softly. “But we need to keep it together. It’ll all work out, I know it will.” _It kinda **has** to,_ he thought as Virgil flopped into his seat, his knee bouncing rapidly. He wasn’t sure what would happen to them if it didn’t.

“Uh-huh,” Virgil grunted vaguely. His head flopped over to land on Patton’s shoulder, and Patton slipped an arm around his waist.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, then glanced around the large room that they had been sitting in all morning.

The huge windows at the end of the hallway showed a picturesque view of the city streets, dusted with snow that sparkled in the sunlight. People scurried down the sidewalks, jackets tugged tight around them, scarves pulled up against the chilly air.

Despite the frosty weather, it was a warmer scene than inside. There was a heavy cloud of dread and desperation that hung over the people sitting in the rows of chairs around them. It was thick and heavy, and seemed to drain energy from the crowd. It felt… bleak. Hopeless. Patton shivered slightly.

Virgil twitched suddenly and raised his head, looking behind them. “Did you hear-?” He cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath, and the next moment he was just _gone_.

Patton twisted in his seat to see Virgil practically sprinting down to the other end of the hallway. His heart seemed to leap out of his chest as he spotted what Virgil had; a faded red hoodie and a dark blue backpack.

“Ro!” Virgil called out, and the boy turned, his face an almost cartoonish expression of surprise. He broke away from the man he’d been walking with- a friendly-looking fellow with brown glasses- and ran towards Virgil.

It was like a scene from a movie, Patton squealed internally. The two of them running to meet each other, reunited at last. Everything really _was_ okay. They had him _back_ , and he was safe, and Patton was never going to let anyone hurt him ever again.

That hope cracked like glass as a blonde woman leapt to her feet and intercepted Roman, sweeping him up into her arms. “Oh! Roman, baby, I missed you so much! Are you okay?” She chattered. Her voice was sickly-sweet, and it immediately set Patton on edge.

“Let go of me!” Roman shouted as he squirmed in her grip, trying to shove away from her. “Put me down!”

Virgil skidded to a halt in front of them, and Patton winced a little, half expecting all that coiled-up stress to explode like a bomb. But, no, Virgil simply scowled at her. “Put him down, you’re stressing him out,” He bit out.

Patton could see Roman’s lawyer jogging towards them, and quickly got to his feet to approach, as well. Hopefully he could help diffuse the situation.

“And who the _hell_ are you supposed to be?” A large man appeared next to the woman- Roman’s parents, Patton realised with no small amount of distaste- and glared at Virgil.

“Virgil. What about you, brute squad?” Virgil snapped as he crossed his arms.

“We’re his _parents!_ ” The woman pursed her lips, seemingly oblivious to Roman’s distress. “What does it matter to you?”

Virgil scoffed. “Yeah, I should’ve guessed, with Ro’s reaction.”

“And what is _that_ meant to mean?” The man scowled.

“It means,” Patton frowned as he reached them, “Roman’s told us about you, and we’ve heard some things from a social worker. I’d hardly call you caregivers.”

“Emile, help!” Roman whined as his lawyer drew near.

“Alright, everybody, let’s just calm down for a minute, huh? Fighting doesn’t help anybody.” Emile said chipperly.

“So you must be the ones who _kidnapped_ my _baby!_ ” The woman ignored him, glaring sharply at Virgil and Patton. “Of _course_ you look like _that._ ”

“Look like what?” Virgil challenged, taking hold of Patton’s hand and gripping it tightly. “Better guardians than you two could ever _dream_ of being?”

“Come on, now, folks, you’re upsetting Roman,” Emile reached out towards him, but the woman jerked him away.

“Like a pair of lazy retail workers with more fat than sense!” She snapped, her gaze lingering on Patton.

Patton felt Virgil tense beside him. “Bold of you to insult my husband about his appearance when _you’re_ walking around looking like a _painted whor_ -”

“ _Everybody, quiet down, right now!_ ” Emile roared. They all fell silent and looked at him. His eyes flickered with protective fury as he held out his arms towards Roman. The woman released him, and he scampered over to cling to Emile, his eyes wide. “Everyone is going to go back and sit down back where they were, on opposite sides of the room, and let the _lawyers_ do the talking and negotiating and problem-solving.”

“Don’t talk to us like we’re goddamn _children_ -” Roman’s father started to say, but Emile rounded on him, his face stony.

“If you want to be _treated_ like mature adults, you’re going to _act_ like mature adults,” He said firmly.

Mr Gorgon went quiet and nodded.

Emile sighed and turned to Patton and Virgil. “Mr Sanders, Mr Sanders, please go back to your seats. Duck should be back with the paperwork he went to fetch shortly. Mr and Mrs Gorgon, please stay here, and your own lawyer should be back from… whatever they’re doing soon.”

Patton watched as Roman’s parents slowly sank back into their seats. He tugged gently on Virgil’s hand, then jerked his head back towards their seats.

Virgil frowned and glanced back towards Roman. “But…”

“Later, love,” Patton murmured. He looked down at Roman, who waved shyly, still clinging to Emile’s shirt. He smiled and nodded, then turned away.

Virgil allowed Patton to lead him back towards their seat, where Duck was waiting. He was a thin fellow, with large wire glasses that gave him a permanently bewildered look, and a dark green suit. He seemed a little unsure of himself, but Patton had faith in him, and had told him so.

“I see you, ah, I see you met the Gorgons,” He said awkwardly.

“Fun couple,” Virgil drawled as he flopped into his chair. “I can see why Roman likes them so much.”

Duck sighed. “They… yeah. We generally try to keep guardians and birth parents… _apart_ , during the process. It’s a very tense time for everyone involved, and it can lead to some… less than pleasant interactions.”

Patton nodded. He gripped the hem of his sweater, twisting it in his hands. “Um… so, what did we need to do next?” He asked, then winced at how forced his enthusiasm sounded. “P-paperwork wise, I mean.”

Duck glanced down at the sheaf of papers in his hands and shuffled them. “Oh! Uh… follow me into one of the interview rooms, and we can go through it all. This one’s probably the thickest- background and history check information and financial history and stability stuff, all that kind of thing- but it shouldn’t take too long. I think we should be finished with it before lunch time.”

Virgil groaned and dragged himself to his feet again. Patton frowned at the dark circles under his husband’s eyes. Neither of them had been coping very well in the past two weeks, but he wasn’t sure Virgil had slept much at all in the past few days. He was worried.

Virgil met his gaze and flashed him a tired grin. “Nothing good ever comes easy, huh?” He muttered, taking Patton’s hand again.

Patton hummed in agreement and squeezed his hand before turning back to Duck and nodding. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	17. A Protective Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Anything worth having is worth fighting for.”
> 
> ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Hours later, Emile and Logan had taken Roman outside to get some fresh air after lunch. He walked along the edge of a garden bed in the courtyard of the large building, his arms held out for balance.

The snow was a brilliant white, blanketing the trees and pathways that filled the courtyard. It felt good, like a fresh start. Roman hopped off the edge of the garden bed and made his way back across to where Emile and Logan sat, carefully stepping in the footprints already tracked through the snow, retracing someone else’s steps.

Logan glanced up as Roman approached them and raised an eyebrow. “What do you have there?” He asked, nodding towards him.

Roman shifted his grip on the prize he had found. “A stick,” He said simply, waving it through the air. It was a good stick, sturdy and smooth, and not too long. It fit nicely in his hand. He liked this stick. “I wanna keep it.”

“I’m not sure you’d be allowed to take that back inside,” Logan frowned.

Emile hummed. “Well, it’s not made of metal or anything, so the detectors wouldn’t pick it up. He could probably put it in his bag.” He winked at Roman, who beamed back at him.

Logan rolled his eyes fondly. “Alright, alright. But it’s on your head if he gets in trouble for it,” He agreed.

Roman giggled, practically bouncing up and down. “Thank you!” He threw his arms around Logan, who caught him and squeezed him gently before releasing him.

Emile laughed as he stood, rolling his neck to stretch it. “We should probably head back inside. Awfully chilly out here, don’t you think?” He suggested, rubbing his arms.

“That’s what you get for not wearing a proper winter coat,” Logan bumped his shoulder against Emile’s lightly and smirked. “Let’s go, then.”

Roman shoved the stick in his bag and followed them back into the building. The warm air hit his face and he let out a contented sigh. It definitely was more cozy in here, he thought. Even if there wasn’t pretty snow or cool sticks to be found.

“Can we go say hi to Patton and Virgil?” He asked as they stepped into the elevator to head back upstairs.

Emile and Logan exchanged a look, and Emile shrugged. Logan looked back down to him and nodded. “Of course. You and Emile wait in one of the interview rooms, and I’ll go find them.”

Roman took his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Logan.”

When they reached the hallway again, though, it was clear something was wrong. Patton was clinging to Virgil, his eyes red and puffy, and Virgil looked angrier than Roman had ever seen him. He ignored Emile’s exclamation as he dived out of the elevator, already making a beeline towards them.

“It’s okay, really,” Patton was saying. “It’s nothing to get all worked up about.”

“Like _hell_ it isn’t! She doesn’t even make any sense!” Virgil growled. His arms were wrapped tightly around Patton in a protective embrace. “Seriously, she can’t have it both ways with that crap. Besides, I don’t _care_ who she is, she upset you, and I’m _not_ putting up with that!”

“Are you guys okay?” Roman asked, worried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart!” Patton reached out for him, and Roman met him halfway, practically throwing himself into the man’s arms. “Just… met somebody who wasn’t very nice, is all.”

Roman frowned. Whoever was upsetting Patton and Logan, he decided immediately that he very much wasn’t a fan of them. Not if they had Virgil looking like he was about to rip out someone’s throat, and Patton shaky and tearful.

“Roman, don’t run off like tha- what’s wrong?” Emile cut himself off, stopping a few feet from them and eyeing over the trio.

“So, we met _Vivienne_ ,” Virgil spat, venom dripping from his words.

Emile practically _flinched_ at the name, and Roman stared at him. “Oh. I see. Is she…?” He gestured across the room, and Virgil nodded. “That is… unfortunate.” He clicked his tongue, staring down the hallway, and then sighed. “Heck, she’s coming over, hang on.”

Roman turned to watch Emile as he jogged up to a slim woman with straight dark hair. Her light orange blouse practically seemed to glow compared to the black material of her suit. Her face seemed set in a permanent scowl, and Roman shivered slightly. This was _not_ a nice woman. She brushed Emile off and marched over to them.

Virgil stepped in front Patton, crossing his arms and staring at her evenly. Roman’s heart swelled with love at his protective nature.

“I see Duck still hasn’t come back from lunch,” She began as she adjusted her narrow glasses. “I’m assuming that means neither of you have your ID checks and documentation on you.”

“And I’m assuming you still don’t have an actual reason to see them, anyway.” Virgil snapped.

Vivienne glared at him. “As a lawyer working in these proceedings, I have every right to request information on those involved. Especially with such…” Her gaze flickered to Patton for a moment. “Risky individuals.”

“ _Risky?_ ” Virgil’s voice jumped an octave. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Well, there are several studies that have shown that many children under the guardianship of… non-standard parents have a higher rate of mental health issues, not to mention the whole… _gender_ thing,” She responded primly.

Oh, _wow_ , Roman hated her.

Emile looked like a deer in the headlights, and Roman couldn’t blame him. She seemed like a lot to have to _talk to_ , let alone _work with_.

“Listen.” Virgil’s voice was low and heavy, like the air crackling right before a bolt of lightning during a storm, and Roman felt Patton shift away from him a little, his grip on Roman tightening. “You can either call us gay men and respect my husband’s identity, or you can call us a cishet couple and _stop whining_ about gays adopting kids. _Make up your **fucking** mind._”

Vivienne gaped for a moment, stunned but clearly furious. She started to reply, but Duck appeared seemingly out of thin air next to Virgil, smoothly inserting himself between them. “Please move away from my clients, Vivienne.” He requested.

“Absolutely _not_! This man just verbally abused me, I should call _security_ -!”

“And they could very well call security for you harassing them over documentation when they have no obligation to even _speak_ with you.” Duck interrupted. “I’ll be over to speak with you shortly.”

Vivienne sputtered, then turned on her heel and stalked away, fuming.

Emile was the first to break the silence between them. “Gosh, I can’t believe you just told her off,” He commented to Duck. “Or that she _listened_.”

“Yeah,” Duck replied, sounding a little dazed. He turned to Virgil, who was still standing stock-still, glaring after her. “I am… so sorry about her. She’s…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Yeah. She is.” Virgil huffed. “Somebody ought to kick her a-”

Patton reached out and put a hand on Virgil’s arm. “Darling,” He said, so softly even Roman could barely hear it.

Virgil paused and took a deep breath. He let it out in a rush, then bit his lip. “Does she have a leg to stand on? With… all that?” He asked Duck and Emile.

Emile practically _bristled_. “Most _certainly_ not!” He exclaimed. “That sort of thing is… _completely_ unacceptable. I’m shocked that she dared to say anything of that regard while in the _building_ , let alone to your faces!”

Duck nodded. “We’ll make sure that gets followed up, but it’s hardly a point she can use in her favour for this case.”

Virgil sighed. “Okay, then. Okay.” He repeated. “This is… fine.”

Roman’s opinion of Vivienne didn’t raise any over the rest of the afternoon. She was a haughty, mean person, and he _loathed_ the way she made Patton flinch whenever she walked past. This, of course, didn’t help how he felt when Emile told him that they needed to talk to his parents in one of the interview rooms.

“But why?” He whined, dragging his feet as Emile led him down the hallway.

“It’s just… we need to…” Emile just sighed. “I’m sorry, but I _promise_ , this is all you’ll have to do with them today.”

Roman shuffled in and sat as far away from Mom and Dad and Vivienne as he could manage- which unfortunately, wasn’t very far in the small room. This room, at least, had couches instead of a table, so they were across the room rather than nose-to-nose with him. Emile sat next to him and nudged him encouragingly.

It was a boring conversation, mostly Mom crying- fake tears, he was pretty sure- and Dad making empty promises. They apologised and offered half-hearted explanations for their terrible behaviour. Roman sat silently, waiting for the pair of them to finish their song and dance before he responded.

“I don’t want anything to do with you two.” He said simply.

Mom made a sound like a kicked puppy, and Dad glared at him. For once, though, he didn’t feel scared. Not with Emile beside him and a bright future so close.

Vivienne, who stood next to the couch where Mom and Dad sat, rolled her eyes. “So, would you rather live with Mr and Mrs Sande-”

“Mr.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr and _Mr_ Sanders.” Roman got to his feet and crossed his arms. “Patton’s a man. You can’t change that.”

“I think you’ll find, _actually_ , that she’s a female. That’s what’s on her birth certificate, so that would be her gender.” Vivienne looked down her nose at him.

“That’s not how that works. Patton was born a girl, because sometimes nature messes up and gives people the wrong parts.” Roman reached into his bag, digging around for Arwen. Vivienne _sucked_ , and he really wanted to just cuddle Arwen and leave.

“It really is.” Her voice grated on his nerves, and he tried to stay calm. He pushed his water bottle to the side, digging deeper into the bag. Calm for Emile. He moved his lunchbox, slipping his hand beneath it. Calm for Patton. Oh, hey, there was the stick again. Calm for Logan. Still no Arwen, though. Did he leave her in the car? “And her name is Pip-”

Everything burst into chaos.

Roman lunged forward without thinking about it, swinging the stick at Vivienne’s legs. She shrieked, trying to step back out of his reach. Mom screamed and grabbed on to Dad, who made a swipe to grab at Roman. Roman ducked away from him and suddenly found himself wrapped tightly in Emile’s arms. Emile plucked him off the ground and scurried out of the room, shouting an apology over his shoulder.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Vivienne as Emile carried him away. Stay calm for the others, he thought to himself. But be fierce for Virgil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	18. The Eye Of The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “In a time of destruction, create something.”
> 
> ― Maxine Hong Kingston

Roman spent the next couple of days at Logan’s house again. Logan had explained to him, in the aftermath of his encounter with Vivienne, that it had been decided it… may not be _best_ for him to be physically present for the rest of the proceedings. With Logan’s help, he could communicate with Emile about what was happening over the phone or video call, but apparently their bosses had requested Roman remain separate from the ‘other parties’.

Roman sure didn’t regret lashing out at Vivienne, but he _did_ regret that he couldn’t see Virgil and Patton for those days. He instead spent his time playing with Logan’s dog, Cody, and playing with the various toys Logan had in storage. He liked the puzzles best, with their fantastical scenery and smiling people and epic battles and sleek starships.

Logan would check up on him every so often, and sometimes would join him in working on the puzzles. They talked about space and the ocean and mountains. Logan seemed to know… almost everything. Roman would ask questions, and Logan would explain. He liked how Logan explained things. He was patient, and he seemed so happy to share knowledge.

On the odd occasion that Logan didn’t know the answer to the question, the pair of them would look it up together. Roman enjoyed it. Logan clearly _loved_ learning, whether he was the one teaching or learning himself, and he enjoyed that as well.

Roman found that he didn’t daydream much while he was with Logan. Sure, he would zone out while thinking about something, until he suddenly realised that Logan was waiting for him to respond, but he didn’t retreat into his imagination. The real world felt… okay. It felt safe. It felt…

Good.

He mentioned it to Emile on call one evening, while he sat in Logan’s study, and the lawyer’s face lit up. “I’m really happy for you, buddy!” He chirped. “I’m glad you feel good.”

“Yeah! Thank you.” Roman grinned. He shifted Logan’s laptop slightly as he sat back in the chair. “So, any news from today?”

Emile pursed his lips. “Well. I can tell you that I think tomorrow might be the last day. We’re getting _pretty_ close to a conclusion.”

Roman’s heart thumped excitedly. “Really?” He asked. “What’s going to happen?”

Emile smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but I’m not sure I can tell you. There’s a lot of discussion about legal stuff to do with other people, and there’s confidentiality to consider, and…”

“It’s okay,” Roman told him. “I understand. So, do I need to come to court tomorrow, if it’s the last day?”

“Nope! You can hang out with Logan!” Emile paused, glancing up as someone off-camera handed him a drink. “Oh, thank you, Rem. Mm-hm. Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

Roman tried not to fidget as he waited for Emile to return his attention to the call. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was _burning_ with anticipation.

Emile giggled and blew a kiss to the other person before turning back to the screen. “Sorry, Ro. Just saying goodnight to my husband.”

Roman nodded.

“But, yeah! You stay at Logan’s place tomorrow morning and afternoon, and somebody should probably come pick you up at, say…” He clicked his tongue as he thought. “Five o’clock? I’ll call you beforehand, though, and fill you in on everything.”

“Thanks, Emile,” Roman smiled.

It wasn’t until after they had hung up the call and Roman was in bed that he realised how ambiguous Emile’s wording had been. _Somebody_ would come pick him up.

He clung to Arwen. What if it _wasn’t_ Patton and Virgil? He didn’t think Logan and Emile would let him be sent back home, but if the judge decided he’d be better off in foster care or something, they couldn’t fight _that_. What if he ended up with strangers? Or somewhere so far away he’d never be able to visit the cafe again? Or with people who were just as bad as-

_Breathe, Princey._ Virgil’s voice echoed in his head, and he obeyed, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before exhaling.

Whatever was happening, now wasn’t the time to worry about it, he told himself. Heroes didn’t worry all night. Heroes prepared for hardships ahead, and that meant getting the best rest they could and tackling the task at dawn with a level head.

He nuzzled his face against Arwen’s fur and sighed. The scent of Virgil and Patton’s cafe was beginning to fade, but he could still picture it easily when he closed his eyes. He could see Virgil’s soft eyes and Patton’s bright smile.

The last time he’d seen them, though, Patton hadn’t been smiling. He’d looked really worried. Virgil had looked… angry, but he was smiling. Roman didn’t think he was angry at him, though.

He wondered what they’d been doing at court. Probably sitting in those plastic chairs and drinking coffee and worrying. He wished he could be there with them, to hug them and make jokes and help them feel better.

It would certainly make _him_ feel better.

Roman rolled over onto his other side and squeezed his eyes shut. Sleep, he thought. Find something else to think about, and go to sleep.

He listened to the trees rustling in the wind outside. A branch knocked against the wall of the house, and it rattled against the wooden siding. He hummed, listening to the rhythmic tapping, and tried to breathe deeply.

The wind whistled around the corner of the house. It reminded him of when he was in the basement of his parents’ house, and he shivered as a chill went right through him.

_~~Cold. Dark. Lonely. Scared. The floor was hard. Something dripped behind him. Spiders scuttled through the shadows. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt.~~ _

Roman curled up and pulled the blankets tight around him. He wasn’t there anymore, he reminded himself. He was safe.

_~~Logan. He reached out for him. His arms shook. He felt so weak. Dizzy. It was too dark and too bright and too much and-~~ _

His head ached. Everything was so heavy. His eyes stung. He yawned and rolled over again. The blankets twisted around him and tangled up in his legs. He didn’t care enough to move them. It was warm enough in here, anyway. Arwen was so soft and smooth. His eyes drifted shut again. He could straighten them out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	19. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hope can be a powerful force. Maybe there's no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic.”
> 
> ― Laini Taylor

“Roman. It’s time to get up, Roman, come on.”

A hand shook his shoulder gently. Roman raised his head from the pillow, blinking at the bright sunlight that streamed in through the window. He looked towards the disturbance to see Logan’s face, hovering above him. A concerned frown creased the man’s eyebrows.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“‘M… tired,” Roman yawned as he shook his head. “S’fine.”

“I made pancakes for brunch. Would you like some?” Logan sat on the bed next to him. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Roman had a brief flash of the sensation of falling.

“I, uh… sure. Thanks,” He flopped back down onto the pillow, facing towards the window.

Logan leaned down to the floor and picked Arwen off the ground. He brushed her off before offering her to Roman. “I’ve also got hot chocolate warming on the stove, if you would like some.”

Roman took Arwen. “Yes, please.” He forced a smile onto his face. His head ached, and his limbs felt heavy as lead, but he didn’t want to worry Logan.

Logan squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes, then.” He smiled before getting up and leaving the room.

Roman lay in bed for another minute, staring out the window. Crisp white snow covered the ground, glittering in the morning sunlight. Part of him ached to go out and play, but he knew it would just be him and Cody. Logan had mentioned he wasn’t much of a fan of the colder weather, so it seemed unlikely he would join in a snowball fight. He sighed and got up, swapping his cozy pyjamas for sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt, and his red hoodie.

Breakfast passed, painfully slowly. Logan did his best to keep up a conversation, but Roman felt sapped of energy, like lead weights were tied to his wrists and dragging him down. He felt bad for the one-word, disinterested answers he gave Logan, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull up his usual pep and bounce.

By the time Logan disappeared into his office, Roman was practically ready to crawl back into bed. Everything ached, and he wanted to hide away for a little while. Though, he could practically already _hear_ Patton rambling about sleep schedules and making the most of the day, so he instead settled for curling up with a blanket on the couch in the rec room and watching a movie.

The familiar crescendo of the Walt Disney sequence was comforting, as was the sepia-toned rainy opening scene of the film. His eyes were glued to the screen as Lewis fiddled with his PB’n’J dispensing hat, half wondering if it would work the same with pop tarts.

If he was Lewis, the one being adopted, then he decided that Patton would definitely be Lucille. Virgil could pass for Bud when he was in a silly mood. Virgil had mentioned he had siblings, so the two of them could probably be Fritz and Joe. And Roman wouldn’t mind marrying someone like Franny. She was funny and passionate and strong and loved her family more than anything, all the best things he liked in a person.

He cuddled Arwen tightly, only half paying attention to the movie as his mind wandered. It would be amazing to have a time machine like the Robinsons did. He could go anywhere, any time, he wanted. Just fly through the sky and pop to wherever he liked.

Though, he thought, it would be cooler to ride on a dragon. Feel warm scales beneath his hands, the wind rushing through his hair, the powerful wings pushing them up, up, up through the clouds. Dragons were cool. He’d always wanted a pet, something friendly and scaley that climbed up his arm. A snake could be cool.

He could picture it now; shining eyes and shimmering golden scales, smooth to touch. Dropping down into his lap from the sky, a gift from the heavens above, like a fallen star. It would curl around him, wrapping him in a serpentine hug before slithering away.

Roman got to his feet, slowly following it. The golden scales drew him forward like a magnet, almost hypnotizing. When he finally broke his gaze away and looked around, they were in a forest. Green and blue and red and purple plants surrounded them, and the snake nimbly weaved between them. Roman trotted along behind it, looking around at the scenery. It rather reminded him of the valley from his last daydream.

He looked down at the snake again, watching it curl around a tree and onto rocky ground. He blinked, looking around to see a cave. Stalactites clung to the ceiling, water drip-drop-dripping from them in a soft rhythm. Piles of treasure littered the space, almost glowing in the shadows where the light didn’t quite reach. He heard voices, distantly, faraway conversations he couldn’t quite catch.

Fear tugged at his chest, and he instead returned his attention to the snake. It wound back around and out of the mouth of the cave, and when Roman looked up again, he was walking through a garden. A picnic blanket was spread carefully across the grass, and a box of cookies sat half-eaten on top of the basket. Bottles of water sat unopened on the checked blanket, and Roman felt the distinct urge to go sit.

He blinked, glanced back to the snake, and then they were in a ballroom filled with people that spun gracefully past him. They seemed undisturbed by the snake that stretched across the shining floor. Faces flashed past him, too quickly to get a proper look at, but achingly familiar. A young man with a moustache and a mischievous grin, with a tall young woman with a shy smile and fluffy brown hair that fell down her back in waves. A girl with eyes bluer than he’d ever seen and a flowing white dress winked at him. Another woman, older, with dark ginger hair and a sharp smile swept past. He knew them. He couldn’t know them, and yet he _did_.

It made him dizzy. He looked down again, silently begging the snake to take him somewhere else. Somewhere quieter. It seemed to respond to his discomfort, hooking to the right and away from the crowd. Before Roman knew it, they were outside. It was night, but not dark. A full moon cast a silvery light over the scene, a grassy hill dotted with small flowers that waved in the breeze. Stars sparkled overhead, glitter spread across the dark, dark blue that covered the sky.

Roman let out a soft gasp at the bone-deep _longing_ that spiked through him. It was beautiful, more so than anything he could think of. He felt that same pull to sit, to just soak in the scene and stay there forever, but the snake didn’t pause. As it was, he broke into a jog to catch up with it. He studied it as he walked. It, too, seemed somehow familiar. Something seemed to be trying to click in his head, like an engine having trouble starting.

The scene changed again. Stone walls appeared around them rough and imposing, and when Roman looked back down, the snake had vanished. A cold sense of horror rose up, and he broke into a sprint, trying to find it.

The night became darker. The glittering stars faded from the sky. He shivered as he searched the maze for his guide. There seemed to be no escape from the cold, no matter how hard he tried to will himself to another place. The walls began to form cracks, stone splintering off and falling to the ground. He had to step around chunks of rubble as he ran further into the labyrinth.

Carvings appeared on the ruined walls. Images that seemed to dance before his eyes, hard to focus on. A terrible monster, huge and angry and merciless, destroying towns and villages, swallowing people whole. Figures bowed down before the giant creature, a snake with those same golden scales he recognized. Roman skidded to a halt in front of a depiction of the snake staring straight at the viewer. Its eyes drilled into him, sending a chill right through his body.

“… What _are_ you?” He murmured, reaching up to touch the wall.

As his fingertips brushed against the stone, a loud crash rang through the night. He spun around, blinking rapidly. “H-hello?” He called. “Who’s there?”

_“You don’t understand, he’s gone completely rogue!”_

He jumped at the noise. A girl’s voice, both familiar and not. He was getting pretty sick of that feeling.

_“Look, I know you two used to be really close, but… he’s…. **changed**. Badly.”_

A boy, this time. A little nasal and whiny, and something inside him ached at the shaky words.

“Hello?” He started walking towards the voices, yelling out to them.

_“He’s a **monster!** Nothing we can do would change that!” _The girl snapped.

The walls around him shifted again. Banners appeared, large enough to hang down to the floor, with careful embroidery and bright colours.

_“I know. I **know** you want him back, but…”_ The boy trailed off.

At some point the rough ground had changed to smooth stone. Windows dotted the walls between tapestries. Torches on the wall threw dancing shadows as he sprinted past them. A castle?

_“Gods, why can’t you just **trust** me on this?”_ The girl’s voice was filled with anger and hurt and desperation.

Roman wondered who they were talking to. It certainly seemed like pieces of the conversation were missing.

He hurtled around a corner and skidded to a stop. A dead end. He looked over the hall, noticing the spears that lay abandoned on the floor, some snapped and broken. Blood was splashed across the castle stone, violent red smears that made his stomach roll. He peeled his eyes away from the floor and up to the tapestry hanging on the wall.

That same golden snake. It felt like it was taunting him, it’s cold eyes mocking his confusion and distress. _Poor little prince, lost and alone,_ it seemed to say. _Nobody to save you. Nobody to chase away the shadows and monsters. Nobody to protect you._

Roman’s head felt like it was going to split open. What was this? He didn’t want this. He didn’t want _any_ of this. The dizziness, the nausea, the darkness and panic and violence and cold. He didn’t understand. He didn’t _want_ to understand, he just wanted _out_.

Footsteps clacked on the stones behind him. He turned to see a tall man, his features hard to make out in the dim, flickering torchlight. The only thing Roman could see clearly was his eyes- shining gold.

Just like the snake.

It took a moment for him to register the knife in the man’s hand. A dagger, shining in the firelight, with a sharp, thin blade. It took another few seconds for Roman to realise it was pointed squarely in his direction.

His heart leapt into his throat. What was _happening?_

“You need to wake up, Roman.” The man’s voice was smooth, like liquid gold. Roman shivered at the strong pang of some unfamiliar emotion that shot through him. The man threw a glance over his shoulder as running footsteps drew closer to them, clattering down the hall. Someone shouted out at the man, and he stiffened, stepping around the corner and much closer to Roman. “You don’t belong here, little one.”

Roman stumbled backwards. He hit fabric, his back up against the snake tapestry hanging on the wall. Something was wrong about this. _Wrong_ and _bad_ and _much too real._ “W-who are you?” He choked out.

The man froze for a moment. His eyes swept up and down Roman, and he opened his mouth.

_**“Get away from him!”**_ The boy’s voice boomed down the hallway, and the man glanced over his shoulder again.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, and Roman was distracted for a moment by the _sharpsharpmuchtoosharp_ teeth. His eyes glowed with something Roman couldn’t identify. Not quite hatred, but something close. “Your murderer.”

Roman’s eyes snapped open. He gasped as he bolted upright on the couch and clutched at his chest. Pictures danced in his vision, too fast to focus on. Constellations that sparkled overhead, their shapes utterly foreign. Smooth scales under his hands, warm and soft. Fires that blazed, higher than he could see and hotter than he could bear. Soft smiles, barely visible out of the corner of their mouth. A knife, plunging into soft flesh that parted beneath its blade.

His chest ached. A familiar feeling, one he knew as well as the freckles that dotted his arms, but it seemed to burn. He curled into himself, clapping both hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs that burst from his throat.

“Roman?” Logan appeared in the doorway. He crouched down next to the couch and reached out to touch Roman’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He asked gently.

Roman flung his arms around Logan’s middle and clung to him. “Bad dream,” He mumbled against the fabric of Logan’s shirt.

Logan sat on the floor and rubbed Roman’s back. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

Roman shrugged. “I… I dunno,” He admitted. “M’scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I… what if I don’t…” The words died in his throat, bitter and uncooperative.

Logan hummed in understanding. “It will be alright. I can’t see any reason that things wouldn’t work out.”

Roman pulled back a little and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “… But what if they don’t anyway?” He whined.

Logan frowned sympathetically. “Well… whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. I promise.”

Roman sighed. He sagged against Logan’s chest and turned his head to look at the TV screen. It was black, the timer device having turned it off after a period of inactivity. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. His stomach growled, as if to say _‘Long enough we need food, dingus!’_

He peered up at the clock on the wall and his stomach sank. It was 4.30pm. Only half an hour left before his fate was revealed.

“Would you like to do a puzzle? I still have an unopened one in the hall closet.” Logan suggested. “I think it’s a fantasy scene, a lake with mermaids.”

“Yes, please.” Roman nodded. He slid off of Logan’s lap and shuffled on his knees over to the coffee table.

They spent the next half hour chatting about mermaids and mythology as they fit together the glossy puzzle pieces. Roman worked on the trees and plants while Logan worked on the water, and it quickly took shape under their hands.

Roman had never realised quite how much he enjoyed doing puzzles with people. It was pleasant to work together on something so casual, especially if you could talk while you worked. The pretty artwork and brightly coloured scenes were a big plus, too.

“As legends go, the first known mermaid stories appeared in Assyria, around 1000 BC. The goddess Atargatis, mother of Assyrian queen Semiramis, loved a mortal, and unintentionally killed him,” Logan explained. “She jumped into a lake and took the form of a fish, but the waters didn’t hide her divine beauty. After that, she took the form of a mermaid- although the earliest representations of Atargatis showed her as a fish with a human head and arm, similar to the Babylonian god Ea.”

“Cool!” Roman exclaimed. “Who was Ea?”

“Well, that’s actually quite interesting! Enki is the Sumerian god of water, knowledge, mischief, crafts, and creation. He was later known as Ea in Akkadian and Babylonian mytho-” Logan was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Roman froze and looked up at Logan. “It’s not 5pm yet, is it?” He mumbled. “Can’t be.”

Logan ruffled his hair lightly. “It’s alright, Roman,” He reassured. “Come, let’s go see.”

Roman slowly got to his feet and dragged himself after Logan. It felt like he was marching to the gallows, or pulled along in an ice cold river that intended to toss him over a jagged waterfall. He wrapped his arms around himself and hovered in the doorway of the rec room. He stared at the front door. From here, he wouldn’t be able to see who was there, but they wouldn’t be able to see him, either, so it suited him just _fine_.

“It’ll be okay,” Logan glanced over his shoulder and smiled again before returning his attention to the door as the visitor knocked again.

Roman’s heart thudded in his chest as Logan turned the handle and opened the door. A gust of wind swept into the entryway, and he shivered. It was obviously still freezing outside. At least he might be able to play in the snow at some point, he thought. That would make things a bit better.

He couldn’t quite see Logan’s face from here, either. He was speaking quietly with whoever was at the door. Roman couldn’t make out the conversation, and his anxiety ratcheted up another notch as he strained to hear the other person’s voice.

A few tense seconds passed before Logan moved out of the doorway. Roman held his breath, his eyes wide.

Please.

He almost _screamed_ as vibrant green and purple eyes met his around the door. Virgil broke into a wide grin and dropped to one knee as Roman threw himself forward into his arms, already bursting into tears again.

“Oh, sweetheart, honey, it’s okay, we got you, it’s okay, darling.” Patton’s arms joined Virgil’s, and Roman felt like he was going to burst into pieces like a firework.

“Hey, hey,” Virgil murmured. He dotted kisses on the top of Roman’s head. “We got you, buddy.”

“I-I…!” Roman wheezed, flailing a hand wordlessly. What words were there, when his heart was so full of love and relief and hope and joy? What could possibly encapsulate how happy he was to see them?

Patton took his hand and squeezed it. “I know, honey,” He beamed, and Roman saw the shiny film of tears swimming in his eyes. “Me, too.”

“I can stay?” Roman asked as he relaxed into their grasp, feeling safer than he had in quite a while.

Virgil nodded. “You sure can, Ro,” He whispered. His voice was soft and raw, and Roman realised that he’d probably already been crying.

He could _stay_. Forever. Cookies and hugs, movies and blankets, spaghetti and kisses, storybooks and warmth, and love. So much love. His heart felt like it was going to burst open. His hands shook as he clung to Patton and Virgil, and he never wanted to let go. He would never _have_ to.

Logan cleared his throat, and the three of them looked up to where he stood, awkwardly holding the door open. “We’re letting all the heat out,” He pointed out.

Virgil laughed. “Sorry, Specs. Got a little distracted.” He kissed Roman’s forehead again, and Roman swore that he felt sparks zap right through him. “C’mon, guys.”

Some undignified scrambling later, they were all on their feet once again. Patton hung off of Virgil’s arm, cooing over Roman and chatting away about all the ideas he had for decorating Roman’s room and making it _his_. Roman liked that idea.

As Roman sat in the rec room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, sandwiched between his new fathers, and his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of sweet hot chocolate, he sighed contentedly.

Sometimes, he thought, just sometimes, life really did come equipped with all the parts of a fairy tale. A down-on-their-luck hero, villains to make your blood curdle, and, most importantly, a loving family.

As Patton leaned across to peck Virgil on the cheek, his arm looped lovingly around Roman’s waist, Roman thought to himself that he liked that part best of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author replies to comments. (But if you're feeling a lil shy and don't want a reply, just put 'whisper' somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be, but know that it is appreciated nonetheless! <3)


	20. Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.”
> 
> ― Stephen King

Snow continued to fall on the city that winter, and the winter after that, and the next. It crunched underfoot as Roman walked across the white-covered grass to where Patton and Virgil sat on a park bench.

“Hey! I’m back!” He called out, holding out a cardboard tray of hot drinks. “Hot chocolate for Pops, and a double shot latte for Dad.”

Patton immediately reached out and took the hot chocolate. “Thank you, _mijo!_ ” He chirped with a grin. “You’re a lifesaver!”

Virgil took a long drag of his coffee before speaking. “Thanks, kiddo.” He nodded. “So, Pat and I were just talking about what we wanted to do this summer.”

Roman sat on Virgil’s other side, sipping at his own drink- a caramel hot chocolate, Patton would have a _fit_ if he drank coffee before he turned 16- and nodded. “What were you thinking?” He asked.

“Well, when we were your age, my dad used to take us camping sometimes. Patton suggested that we pack up and head north for a few weeks. Fishing, fresh air, firepits, and stars.” Virgil explained.

“Camping sounds awesome!” Roman exclaimed, his eyes wide. “Please, please, please, can we?”

Virgil and Patton shared a soft, amused look. “I think we can arrange it,” Patton giggled. “Close up the cafe for a little while and go over the summer holidays so you don’t miss out on school… it’ll be fun!”

Roman practically _vibrated_. “Yes!” He cheered. “We can roast marshmallows and climb trees and do all sorts of fun stuff, right?”

Virgil ruffled his hair. “Yep. Just like the movies.” He chuckled.

Patton raised his hot chocolate in a toast. “To family trips and all the memories to make!” He declared.

Virgil and Roman obediently tapped their cups to his. “To family trips!” They chorused.

Roman leaned back in the chair and sipped his hot chocolate as he watched Patton bob down and start drawing shapes in the snow; cat faces and love hearts and stick figures. Two tall stick figures, one with glasses, and a shorter one in the middle. All three of them wore wide smiles.

He giggled at Patton’s cheerful, innocent doodles. He was never going to get tired of the soft love that rolled off of him in waves. The last couple of years had proven that it really was a bottomless well.

Cold smacked into the side of his face, and he shrieked, almost dropping his cup. He spun to see Virgil, a wicked glint in his eyes and another snowball already being formed in his hands. “Come on, kid! Hit me with your best shot!” He taunted, poking his tongue out. “Or are you gonna sit on that bench all day?”

Roman leaped to his feet, scooping up a lump of snow and shaping it in his hands. “Oh, you’re _on!_ ” He retorted.

“ _Snowball fight!_ ” Patton yelled, a delighted grin on his face as he clapped his gloved hands.

Their laughter and shouts drifted through the mostly-empty park, through the trees and play equipment. Snowballs thudded into trees, the ground, each other, anything in sight was a fair target.

Tonight, they would go home and watch movies until they fell asleep. Tomorrow, Roman would go to school, and his parents would go to work at the cafe. And they would live their lives, happy and together and loving each other more fiercely than anything in the world, that day, and the next, and the week after that, and the one after that, too.

And they lived happily ever after.

_~~Well, mostly.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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